The Diary of a Mad Witch
by wicked.witchy.princess
Summary: I seem to be a perfectly normal witch. I get good grades, I have two of the best friends ever, I get along with almost everyone...but I also have a secret. Rating will change for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

**Diary of a Mad Witch**

Hello. Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Amelia Abigail Grace Creston. Well, no, it's not. Actually, though, that's a rather pretty name. A bit long, however. Can you imagine trying to fit a name like Amelia Abigail Grace Creston on a library card? It would probably take ages, and in the end it would look all cramped and sloppy.

My name is really Lily Desiree Evans. I'm thirteen years old, in my third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Yes, that's right. I'm a witch, which is astonishing, really, because I come from a family of completely normal, non-magical (commonly referred to as "Muggles" in the wizarding world) people.

I'm really happy to be a witch, at least most of the time. Doing magic is one of the most amazing feelings in the world. When I learn a new spell or potion, I can help but feel proud. I mean, I come from a family that has no magical background whatsoever, and yet here I am, studying at the best wizarding school in all of England.

On the other hand—and this is a complete secret that I have told no one, not even my two best friends—sometimes I feel like I am stuck between two worlds that don't think I really belong. My parents were really ecstatic when I got my acceptance letter for Hogwarts (after we all got over the shock, of course), but my older and only sister, Petunia, was disgusted. She took every opportunity she could while my parents were out of earshot to let me know that I was a freak. No one else in my family knows that I'm a witch, however. Not even my favourite aunt Chloe. My parents, for some reason unbeknownst to me, keep telling everyone that I was accepted to a highly selective boarding school out in the country when anyone asks where I spend most of my year. This makes me feel very awkward. If they're so proud to have a witch in the family, why keep it secret?

I thought things would be better here at Hogwarts, or in the wizarding world in general. However, things are perhaps even worse. I found that most wizards believe Muggle-borns (people like me who come from Muggle families) are somehow unworthy to be practicing magic. There are even some so low as to call me a Mudblood, which is a really foul word essentially meaning that I have dirty blood because I don't come from an all-wizarding family. Sometimes it can be really hard. People are always teasing me about it, especially the stupid Slytherins. That's why I don't tell many people about my heritage.

I try not to let it get to me, but it's hard. Sometimes I wonder where it is then that I fit in. Certainly not in the Muggle world, because I am _not_ a Muggle. But there are those in the wizarding world that would have me believe I am not a true witch, either.

I'm what a lot of people call a know-it-all. I love to answer questions in class, and I often have the right answers, because I love to read. I get my school supplies early every summer and spend many bright summer days reading ahead. I often end up reading each of my school books twice before school even starts; then I read them again several times throughout the year.

I'm also a bit of a loser. I have only two close friends, both in my year and in the same house as I am in, Gryffindor. Annabelle Jones, who I have considered my friend since the very first journey to Hogwarts, was actually the one to give me this diary. My other best friend is Abigail Prewitt.

The only thing Abby and Annabelle have in common is me. Other than that, they are complete and total opposites. Abby is really outgoing and athletic. She's only a little shorter than I am, with sleek, shiny black hair down to the middle of her back. Her eyes are a deep coffee-coloured brown, and she's rather skinny. She plays Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and she's quite good. She is also on a Muggle soccer team during the summer, as she is half and half (her dad's a wizard, her mum a Muggle).

Annabelle, on the other hand, is what I call the social butterfly of Hogwarts. She has short, glossy blonde curls to her shoulders and beautiful baby blue eyes. She also happens to be a bit on the short and chubby side. She's got loads of friends outside of Abby and me but we're her **_best_** friends. Annabelle loves to gossip, and so coincidentally, she always knows what's going on around the castle. Sometimes this can come in handy. Other times, it's humiliating.

"Omigosh, omigosh, omigosh!" squealed a voice at breakfast loudly, and Abby and I turned to look at one another.

Abby looked positively dismayed, her mouth open and her fork poised just in front of it full of scrambled eggs. I tried to bite back my giggle as I glanced at her over my copy of the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper. "Here we go," Abby groaned, rolling her eyes.

Suddenly Annabelle appeared in the empty seat across from me, panting. "Guess what?" she asked excitedly, grinning widely at us.

Abby still had a forkful of eggs near her mouth. "You finally got detention from McGonagall for 'not using your inside voice,'" she guessed sarcastically, and I had to bite my lip and hide my face behind the paper to keep Annabelle from seeing my struggle to keep from laughing.

When I had finally regained control of myself, I peered across the table over the top of the paper again at Annabelle, who was scowling at Abby, who was finally chewing her eggs. "No," Annabelle said huffily.

"What is it then?" I asked.

Instantly she perked up. "Missy Platt and Jared Hornsby are going out!" she declared with triumph, staring at us expectantly, as if we were supposed to jump out of our seats with joy or something.

I blinked. "Well, that's…good," I said uncertainly.

Annabelle's face fell. "That's it?" she asked. "That's _all_ you're going to say about it?"

Abby raised an eyebrow. "What do you expect us to do, throw a parade or something?"

"Well of course not," Annabelle snapped back irritably. "I just thought you'd be at least a _little_ bit excited!"

"Oh, Annabelle," I sighed, shaking my head. "It's not like it'll last anyway."

"What do you mean?" she asked, starting to get huffy again. "How would you know anyway?"

"Because," I said exasperatedly, "we're only _thirteen,_ for heaven's sake. We don't know anything about love yet; we're simply too young. Besides, they should be focused more on their studies and less on their social lives."

Simultaneously both Annabelle and Abby rolled their eyes. "No wonder," Annabelle muttered crossly, starting to put eggs and bacon onto the plate in front of her.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing," they both replied quickly, and dropped their eyes to their plates to avoid looking at me.

"What do you mean by _that_, Annabelle?" I pressed, setting my paper down.

"Nothing," she repeated innocently. "Honestly. It's not important. You wouldn't want to know anyway."

"Yes I do," I said instantly. "Tell me."

Abby and Annabelle exchanged worried glances, still not looking at me. Finally Annabelle sighed. "It's really not important, Lily," she said finally, as I reached for my goblet of orange juice. "It's just that…well, you've sort of gained the reputation for being prude, that's all."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

I coughed and choked, the mouthful of juice I had just swallowed spraying everywhere. A few people around me either laughed or glared at me in disgust, but I was too busy choking to really care. Abby began pounding on my back, which of course only made matters worse. She was hitting me so hard she was nearly knocking the breath from me.

"E-e-excu-cuse m-me?" I spluttered, trying to fight Abby off. "Me? _P-prude_?"

Annabelle looked extremely uncomfortable. "Actually, the school's biggest prude," she said guiltily.

I actually fell off my seat at these words, still coughing and gasping for air. "_WHAT?!_" I exploded, finally regaining my breath.

"All right there, Evans?" someone asked above me. I glanced up and promptly began choking again, this time seemingly on air. James Potter. Of course it would have to be the only person who could make this already horrible situation ten times worse.

"F-f-fine," I replied with great difficulty, my face hot with embarrassment.

Behind James were his three best friends, who had deemed themselves the Marauders back in out first year: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Sirius and Peter were snickering, probably at me. James cocked an eyebrow at me. "Are you sure?"

"Y-yeah—cough cough—d-d-don't m-mind me—cough—I'm only s-s-sitting here—cough cough—ch-choking to d-d-death."

Abby snorted into her plate of scrambled eggs, nearly choking herself while Annabelle frowned at her.

"Oi, Evans," said Sirius, peering over James's shoulder at me. I looked up at him, unable to speak now for my coughing fit had deprived me of all extra oxygen, rendering me incapable of speech. "Have you put on a new lip gloss?"

I merely blinked at him, shocked at this question. I wanted to retort, "Why, yes, Sirius. I'm sitting her choking on air but I took the time to apply some new gloss. I'm ever so glad you took notice. Do you like it?" but I couldn't say anything. I was painfully aware that a lot of heads were swivelling to stare at me, and my blush deepened.

"N-no," I managed to croak hoarsely in answer to Black's ridiculous question.

Remus, too, was now looking over James's other shoulder. "I believe Sirius is referring to the fact that your lips are turning blue," he said matter-of-factly.

"Do you need the Heimlich?" Abby piped up, leaping to her feet.

I would have liked to tell Abby that there was no reason to give me the Heimlich manoeuvre, considering that I wasn't technically choking on anything but air. However, I was too busy doing the latter to do so. Instead, I scrambled backwards, shaking my head fiercely at my very powerful best friend.

Abruptly I stood up, still coughing insanely but trying to swallow them (which only made my ribs ache), and brushed off my robes. I was feeling slightly dizzy, and when I glanced up it felt as if the world was tilting to one side. I swayed slightly on my feet; I knew I was leaning to one side, but so was the world.

"Hey Lily," Abby said nervously, stepping toward me again. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"F-f-fine!" I knew my cheeks were probably turning a shade of red to rival my hair.

"Here, let me help you," said James, also taking several steps toward me. I felt his hands on my shoulders, trying to steady me.

With a great deal, of effort, however, I pushed him away. "I don't need your help," I tried to say, but all that came out of my mouth was a sad little whimper before everything went black.

**u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u**

Annabelle and Abby's faces were the first things I saw when I opened my eyes. Groaning, I tried to sit up only to knock heads with the pair of them, which made all of us groan.

"What happened?" I asked them, lying back down and rubbing my forehead.

I knew I was in the hospital wing—no other room in the castle was this _white_—but I didn't know exactly how long I'd been there, or how I'd gotten there, either.

"You fainted," Annabelle informed me. She too was rubbing her forehead, looking pout-y. "Madame Pomfrey says you've got…oh, what was it? Ass-mar?"

"Asthma," Abby corrected, rolling her eyes at our blonde friend's mistake. "She said it was probably triggered by that coughing fit you went into. The lack of oxygen in your lungs made you faint."

"Lovely," I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. "This has got to be the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened to anyone in the history of Hogwarts."

"Well, it actually was a bit amusing," Annabelle said, biting down hard on her lip to keep from smiling. "You should have seen how brightly you were blushing! Your face looked like a tomato—"

"Must you rub it in like that?" Abby interrupted, shooting Annabelle a dark look. "She's already been horribly embarrassed. You don't have to make it worse!"

"While you're at it, perhaps you'd like to squeeze the juices from a whole lemon in my eye?" I said cattily. "I mean, I only found out that I am apparently the school's biggest prude, spat orange juice all over the table, fell of my chair, started choking on air _and then_ passed out, all of this in front of the whole school."

Annabelle looked down, ashamed.

I sighed, feeling horrible for myself, but even worse because I had snapped at my friend when she hadn't deserved it. "I'm sorry," I said softly. "I didn't mean to snap. It's just been a really rotten day, that's all."

"Oh, it's okay sweetie," Abby said, reaching out and patting my arm. "We both understand."

Annabelle suddenly looked up, her face lit with excitement. "Girls, next year is going to be _our_ year!" she declared gleefully, and Abby and I stared at her, looking confused. "We're going to come back from summer completely made over! We are going to rule the school next year! We will have boys swooning all over us, and girls glaring at us with jealousy. It's going to be fabulous!"

"Boys swooning, over _me?_" I said, laughing bitterly. "Yeah, right. Like that'll ever happen!"

Abby frowned down at me. "Lily, you're gorgeous!" she said firmly, leaving no room for me to argue.

"I'll invite you both over to my house this summer," Annabelle said, ignoring Abby and me. She leapt off the hospital bed and began pacing around it. "We'll go over all my magazines to see what guys like in a girl, and we'll become so glamorous it'll be impossible for boys to _not_ notice us!"

"Easy for _you_ guys to say!" I said helplessly. "_You_ aren't known as the school's biggest prude!"

"Don't worry," Annabelle said dismissively, not even glancing at me. "We'll change _that_, too! In fact, Lily, that should be your primary motivator for this make over! I doubt you want to be seen as Miss Goody Two-shoes forever!"

She was right. Of course I didn't want to have a humiliating reputation like that forever. "Fine," I said, and Annabelle beamed down at me. "When do we start?"

She threw herself on me in a tight hug. "Oh, this is going to be great!" she squealed. "We should start _right_ away. The Hogwarts Express leaves in two days' time. I'll talk to my parents and send you both letters as soon as I get it cleared with them!"

At that moment, the new nurse Madame Pomfrey came over and shooed the girls out of the hospital wing. "Miss Evans needs her rest!" she said forcefully. "And I believe you two should be going down to dinner!"

"Bye Lily!" they both called over their shoulders, and then they left.

"Now, Miss Evans," said Madame Pomfrey kindly, coming to stand next to my bed. "As I'm sure your friends informed you earlier, you have asthma. I am able to cure it, of course, but the procedure is to ask permission from your parents."

"No," I said quickly, "don't tell my mum about it. She, uh, doesn't really need to know, right? I mean, you can just cure me and not tell her, couldn't you?"

Madame Pomfrey looked surprised. "Why wouldn't your mother want to know, dear?" she asked.

"It's not that she wouldn't _want_ to know," I said carefully, "it's just…I really don't think it's important information. I mean, if you can cure it all fine and dandy, then there's nothing to really worry her about."

"It's procedure to let her know," the nurse repeated. "You come from a Muggle family, and sometimes Muggle parents prefer their children to use 'normal' techniques of healing. I need to have your parent or guardian's permission."

"_Please_, Madame Pomfrey," I said, practically begging now. "She'll worry like mad if she finds out. I won't even tell anyone about it. It could just be our little secret!"

She frowned at me. "If you don't want me to inform your mother, I can't cure you," she said stubbornly.

"Fine," I said, just as obstinately. "Can I go then?"

She sighed, exasperated, and opened her mouth to try and argue some more, but at that moment the hospital wing doors opened, and Remus Lupin walked in.

He looked between Madame Pomfrey and me, both our faces set stubbornly. "If this is a bad time," he said cautiously, "I could come back later."

"No, no, Mr. Lupin," Madame Pomfrey said briskly, turning away from me. "I think Miss Evans and I are finished here."

"I think so, too," I muttered irritably, and if the nurse heard me, she didn't show it.

"Now, Mr. Lupin, I do believe I have what you're here for in my office," she said, smiling kindly at Remus, who nodded, looking slightly self-conscious, shifting his weight from one foot to the other a few times.

I was about to ask him what he was doing in here when I remembered that Madame Pomfrey never said whether I could leave yet. "Hey!" I called after her as she strode toward her office at the other end of the wing. "You never said if I could leave!"

"Oh, just a _minute_, Miss Evans!" she snapped back, loosing her temper.

I scowled after her. All she had to do was tell me I could go, and I'd get out of her hair. It's not like it took very long to tell someone they can leave. After all, she'd said it herself: we were done here.

She returned a few minutes later with a small wooden box, which she then handed to Remus, who looked even more uncomfortable as he took it from her.

I opened my mouth to ask what was in the box when Madame Pomfrey turned to me and said, "All right, Miss Evans, you can go now." As I tossed off my blankets and prepared to leap out of the bed, she added firmly, "But take it _slow_, understand? And walk with Mr. Lupin here."

My jaw dropped. "What?"

"You're liable to be dizzy for a while, and I don't want to have someone find you passed out in the middle of a corridor somewhere."

I blushed and avoided looking at Remus. "But I feel fine! I'm not dizzy at all!"

"That's because you're still lying down!" Then she smirked ever so slightly and added, "You wouldn't be dizzy if I'd cured you."

But I ignored these last words and got out of the bed. She was right (not that I'd ever tell that to her face, of course); I did feel a little light-headed as I made my way over to Remus. "Ready?" I mumbled, still not looking at him.

"After you," he said, holding the door open for me.

Without another word to the nurse, I left, still feeling irritated. So what if I didn't want my mum to worry? It's not like it's some sort of crime to want to keep your parents from fretting about you.

I was so busy fuming that I didn't notice when Remus shrunk the wooden box and stuck it in his pocket, and I forgot all about asking him what was in it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Two days later, everyone was back on the Hogwarts Express heading toward Kings Cross and the summer holidays. Abby, Annabelle and I had a compartment to ourselves, and while they bickered about how many chocolate frogs they had each bought from the lunch trolley ("I swear you bought four, but you're holding five. That one's mine!" "Don't be ridiculous; it's mine!") I sat with my head against the windowpane, watching the landscape fly by. Another whole year gone. It felt like only a week had passed since I'd first arrived at the castle for the beginning of third year.

The compartment door slid open then, and I glanced up to see the four Marauders stepping inside. I frowned as Annabelle immediately stopped arguing with Abby, a huge, delirious grin on her face. Abby's cheeks had gone slightly pink.

"Hullo Jones, Prewitt," Sirius greeted cheerfully, beaming at them. Abby's cheeks went even pinker, and Annabelle actually giggled. I, however, rolled my eyes. "Hi, Evans."

"Black," I said, nodding once at him before turning back to look out the window.

"Don't mind her," I heard Annabelle say to the boys. "She's been a bit of a dark mood ever since the hospital wing!"

My frown deepened at this, and I bit my lip to keep from retorting, "Well so would you, if you had been completely humiliated in front of the whole school!"

The boys entered the compartment and closed the door behind them, taking up the remaining seats. James sat down next to me, and without even looking I knew he was grinning. "Go out with me, Evans?" he asked.

"No," I answered automatically, without turning around.

"We warned you," Abby said ruefully, and I rolled my eyes.

I lost track of the conversation after a while. My mind was racing almost as fast as the countryside out the windrow through which I was looking. Everyone thought _I_ was a prude. Well, I could guess why. I'd never had a boyfriend, and the only boy who ever asked me out often enjoyed tormenting me with stupid and childish pranks. I wasn't usually one to care what people thought of me, but I had to admit: this struck a chord with me.

_Well, at least this summer will change everything_, I thought wistfully. _Or so I hope it will._

**u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u**

Abby and Annabelle each hugged me fiercely when it was time for us to depart. I waved cheerfully as they went to join their families. Then I began scanning the crowd for my own mum, with Annabelle's words echoing in my skull: "_Girls, next year is going to be_ our_ year!_" I certainly hoped so.

I staggered and squealed as suddenly someone's entire weight was thrown upon me. I tripped over the crate of my cat, Romeo, and fell to the hard concrete. "Ouch!" I complained loudly.

"Sorry about that, Flower!" James said brightly, getting off of me and standing up. He extended his hand to help me up, but I ignored it and stood on my own.

"What in the world did you do that for?" I shouted, glowering at the boy in front of me. The other Marauders came to stand next to him. "And don't call me that!"

James placed a hand on his chest and bit his lip, his eyes looking skyward as if he might start crying at any moment. "Oh, Flower," he said in a tremulous voice, and I fought the urge to pretend to gag myself. "It's just that—"

To my horror he flung himself on me again and promptly began pretending to sob into my shoulder. Sirius was guffawing, as if this was the funniest thing he had ever seen, and Peter, too, was laughing in that annoying, squeaky voice he had. Even Remus looked slightly amused, the corners of his mouth upturned in a smile.

"Get _off_!" I pushed James away from me.

"We won't see each other for two whole months!" he wailed dramatically. The scene was beginning to attract a lot of attention. I could feel my cheeks burning. "Two months! How will we ever _survive_?"

"Splendidly, I expect," I muttered. "In fact, I think some of those hex marks might heal before you give me the motivation and opportunity to make more."

"Evans, I'm hurt," James said mockingly, placing a hand over the right side of his chest. "You make my heart _ache_ for you and our lost love—"

"Perhaps you should learn where your heart actually _is_ before you start proclaiming your so called 'love' for me," I interrupted coolly.

This caused even more of an uproar from Sirius. I could see James's cheeks go pink as he dropped his hand. I couldn't help but grin cheekily at him. He was so obnoxious, and full of himself! Constantly strutting around the castle like it was _his_ place, like everyone should just fall all over themselves to kiss the hem of his robes or something. Unfortunately, I seemed to be the only female that was (thankfully) immune to his ridiculous, so-called "charm." Even Annabelle and Abby were crazy about him. It was disgusting, that's what it was.

"Sirius!" barked a shrill, cold voice, and Sirius winced, turning to glance at the other end of the platform. He turned back to the group. "SIRIUS!"

"I'll be right _there_!" he bellowed back at his mother, a stern, unhappy looking woman. "I'm coming to stay at your house _a lot_ this summer, Prongs," he told James darkly, throwing a glare at his family over his shoulder.

He grabbed his trolley and began to haul it away. Almost as if this had been a signal, Peter and Remus's mothers also called for them—though in _much_ nicer tones than Mrs. Black had done.

"Bye, Lily," Remus said as he took hold of his trolley and went to join his own family. "Have a good summer."

"You, too," I said, smiling and waving as he left. I had always been fond of Remus; he was the only sensible Marauder. I watched as he walked over to his family. Curiously I examined his mother, who was apparently so ill that Remus often had to leave the school. I, of course, knew this to be untrue as I got a good look at her. His mother was pale, sure, but she definitely wasn't sickly looking. She was pleasantly plump, with kind blue eyes and a friendly and loving smile. I would know what a sickly person _really_ looks like, and Mrs. Lupin wasn't it. Hmm. Interesting.

I resumed scanning around the station for my mum. I was starting to get nervous. I didn't see her anywhere. Had she forgotten I got home today? _Or maybe something happened,_ a voice in the back of my head said, and I tried hard to ignore it. Subconsciously I began to chew my bottom lip—a bad habit of mine.

"Wassa matter?" James asked, and I jumped; I'd forgotten he was still there.

"Nothing," I said quickly, surreptitiously glancing around again. Maybe I'd simply overlooked her. Maybe I just—

"Where are your parents?"

"Where are yours?" I shot back.

He pointed off to the side of the station.

"Why don't you go join them then?" I asked irritably.

He shrugged. "Just wanted to say goodbye, I guess."

"Well, goodbye then."

"I don't get a kiss?" he asked slyly.

"No."

He shook his head. "Didn't think so, but it's always worth a try!" he said heartily. "Well, I guess I'll see you next year, Evans!"

And he went off to join his parents, who were both looking sharp in very nice Muggle clothes so as not to attract much unwanted attention.

I was really beginning to panic now. The crowd between platforms 9 and 10 was rapidly thinning, and my mother was definitely _not_ there. What was I supposed to do? Walk? My house was pretty far from the station. It would take me ages to walk home, but I couldn't see another option; I didn't have any Muggle money to take the underground or hail a taxi.

"Walking it is then," I whispered to myself, bending down to place Romeo's cage on top of my trunk. I would have to carry all my school supplies, as I couldn't exactly walk out of the station with my trolley.

I blinked furiously to stop myself from crying. Crying wasn't going to help matters at all. Squaring my shoulders, I picked up my trunk in both arms, and began my long walk home. It was definitely slow walking. My trunk was incredibly heavy, so I often had to stop and set it down to rest. My arms ached terribly, as did my legs, and my eyes kept prickling with tears I wouldn't let fall. My progress was further slowed when it began to rain. Romeo was yowling loudly in his cage, causing a great deal of people to stare at me.

"Oh, this is just great!" I shouted to the sky, causing some people to skirt around me warily. "Absolutely fabulous."

I trudged on, finally allowing angry tears to course down my face, mixing with the rain so it would be hard for anyone to tell that I was crying at all. I couldn't believe it. This had definitely _not_ been my week. Was this supposed to be the universe's twisted idea of karma? Were the gods sitting up on those leaden grey storm clouds laughing at me?

I didn't doubt it.

* * *

A/N: I know this story seems cliche, like a standard Lily-Evans-Gets-A-Makeover-And-Everyone-In-Hogwarts-Suddenly-Falls-In-Love-With-Her fanfiction, and nothing at all like my other story, Underneath this Smile (for those of you who have read that, also), but I do promise to you all that it will not stay like this forever. It starts out cliche, but I don't think it will stay that way for very much longer. Also, happy 16th birthday, SweetSouthernGal. I updated both stories today for you! 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The sun had long set by the time I finally arrived at my house. I was positively exhausted and utterly soaked to the skin. A hot bath, a quick bite to eat and then twelve hours of sleep were all I wanted. Twisting the doorknob, I glared up at the twinkling stars. Locked. I had no key. All I had was my wand, but to use it would be illegal.

But then the door opened, and all my anger disappeared, my heart sinking and my stomach clenching, as I looked up into the pale face of my mother. She looked even sicker than I remembered. There were dark circles under her eyes, the colour of a fresh bruise. She had more wrinkles, too, which further pained me. She was only 38. She shouldn't have so many wrinkles.

"Lily!" she said, her voice hoarse and weak sounding. "Are you alright? Have you been crying?"

My mum was the only person to date who could take one look at me, standing in the pouring rain, and know that tears were also present on my face, not just rivers of rain. Knowing this, and knowing it would be stupid to lie, I nodded.

She reached out and put a bony hand on my shoulder, pulling me inside. "What are you doing home?" she asked, still in that weak voice.

"Summer holidays," I said, setting my heavy trunk on the living room floor and bending down to let Romeo out of his cage. He came streaking out, looking like a bolt of black lightning. He, too, was wet, though not nearly as much as I was. He shot a reproachful look at me over his shoulder before racing down the hallway to the right of the kitchen and out of sight.

"Oh no!" said my mum, putting her hands over her mouth and looking horrified. "I can't believe I forgot! Flower, I am _so_ sorry! Did you have any money with you? Did you take the underground?"

Slowly I shrugged, then, knowing again that it was stupid to lie, I shook my head. "I only had wizarding money," I said. "I walked."

She looked even more horror-struck. "You _walked_, in _this_ weather? Oh, Flower!"

"It's okay," I said quickly. Then, for the first time that night, I lied to her, but only to make her feel better. "It really wasn't that bad. Honest. I'm fine."

"No you're not! Look at you, soaked clear through the bone! You had better go change out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia. I'll make you a hot cup of tea."

I obeyed; taking off my wet trainers and leaving them by the front door, I then followed the path that Romeo had taken down the hallway, to the last door on the left, which was slightly open. I pushed through it and entered my room, which was exactly how I had left it. The walls were a cheery pastel blue colour, with several posters and pictures hung on them. Some pictures were moving, and some stationary—a tribute to the two worlds I belonged to. There was a lump beneath the pale blue duvet on my bed, which I knew was Romeo, curled up underneath the blankets to get warm.

I peeled off my sodden clothing and pulled on some fresh, dry ones. When I returned to the living room, my mum was holding a steaming mug of tea, which she thrust into my hands.

"I am so sorry, honey," she said miserably, watching as I sipped cautiously at the hot liquid in my cup. "I don't know how you can ever forgive me."

"It's okay," I repeated. "Honestly. It's not that big of a deal. So I had to walk a few miles…in the rain…carrying a really heavy trunk and a cranky cat. But it's fine!"

After that, we didn't mention it, though all through the hours that we sat on the couch watching TV together, she kept shooting me apologetic looks, as if she were frightened that I might explode on her about what a horrible mother she'd been. Yes, I'd been furious as I walked home in the rain from the station, getting an odd array of looks, but I couldn't stay mad at my mum, not when I'd seen the way she looked. She looked so much worse than I remembered.

Finally, at around ten o'clock I glanced over at her to find that she'd fallen asleep on the couch. I set my second mug of tea down on the coffee table and then went to pull a heavy blanket over her, tucking it all around her to keep her warm. Then I went into the kitchen and brewed myself another cup of tea and padded down the hallway in my socks and entered my bedroom once more. I sat down on my window seat, pulled back my curtains, and stared out at the starry night sky through my raindrop-covered window.

My mother had been diagnosed with lung cancer five years ago, just a year before I received my Hogwarts acceptance letter. The doctors back then had been hopeful. It was still early, they'd said. There was still time to get rid of it before anything serious happened. She'd be as good as new in no time at all. That was when we were all a family, my mum, my dad, my older sister Petunia and I. But then Mum started getting sicker. The tumour was growing larger. The doctors said they had to remove it as soon as possible, so she had surgery. But it came back, bigger than ever. Hospital bills began piling up as she entered chemotherapy. Dad had had to take on more hours at his job to help pay for everything. Petunia had even had to get a job after school.

There was just too much strain on the family. We were slowly coming apart, like a tapestry that had never quite been sewn correctly unravelling at the seams. Dad started to stay out later and later at night, sometimes not even coming home at all. I remembered lying awake in my bed, listening to my mum weeping from their bedroom next to mine, waiting, like me, for him to come home. But when he did come home, he was different. He wasn't the same man I knew, the daddy who had read to me until I fell asleep each night. He was darker, never smiling or joking or laughing. Always frowning, scowling, trudging around the house.

Until one night, he and Mum had a huge row. She was sobbing, hanging on to his arm, begging him to please stay. He was shouting. There wasn't enough money! He couldn't support the family alone! He needed a _real _wife, someone who wasn't in and out of the hospital all the time. I stood in a corner of the living room, listening and watching while he yelled and she cried, wondering what I could do to stop everything, make it all better, until Petunia had swept me away, back to my room, where we sat on my bed and I sobbed into her. She rocked me back and forth and whispered into my hair.

"Don't worry, Lily," she'd whispered. "Don't you worry. Everything's going to be fine."

But everything was _not_ fine, and she and I both knew it. We both knew this wasn't some little argument our parents were having; this was a full-blown row. This was the _end_.

"Don't leave us, Henry!" my mum had cried. "You can't just _leave_!"

"Watch me!" he bellowed back. "This isn't a family, Ruth! This is _nothing_!"

I tore myself out of Petunia's arms and raced to the front door. I stood in front of it, blocking my dad from leaving. "Don't go," I said, crying harder than ever. "Please, Daddy, don't go. We need you. _I_ need you."

"Lily, step away from the door," he'd said, sighing. "I can't stay here anymore."

"NO!" I screamed. "YOU'RE NOT LEAVING US! YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE!"

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" he shouted right back, and without warning, latched onto my shoulder and jerked me from the door, flinging me behind him, where I landed, hard, on the floor.

For a moment, everything was completely silent. Petunia had followed me out of my room and now stood near the doorway to the kitchen, her hands over her mouth. My mum was sobbing even more as she sank onto the couch, her face in her hands. My dad and I were staring at each other, and it was hard to tell which one of us was more shocked. I had even stopped crying. For a long time, it seemed, no one moved.

Then it happened. He turned around, yanked the front door open, and left, slamming it behind him. And that was it.

That had been the summer before I was supposed to start my first year at Hogwarts.

Now, in the summer before my fourth year at Hogwarts, all that was left of the once proud and happy Evans's family was Mum, Romeo and me. Petunia had moved away last year to go to college somewhere across the country. Though she had never directly said anything to me (apart from calling me a freak), I knew Petunia thought that since I was a witch, there must be something I could do to make our mum better; she just assumed I hadn't tried.

Oh, but I had. I had spent countless hours in the library, searching every book I could get my hands on that might even give me a _clue_, just the tiniest of hints would have done, really…but I had found nothing. Everyone in the castle assumed I just loved the library and spent hours pouring over books to get all my homework done. But you know what they say about assuming: Don't assume. It makes an ass and out u and me. The truth was that I spent a very little amount of time on my homework and most of it searching for a cure for my mum.

I mean, what's the point of being a witch if you can't do something _useful_? I was magical now, wasn't I? So why in the _world_ couldn't I figure out how to fix everything, make it go back to the way it was?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of bacon and sausage frying. Sleepily, I rubbed my eyes and removed myself from my window seat, where I had fallen asleep the night before. I entered the kitchen to see my mum standing at the stove over a frying pan, holding a spatula in one hand. She looked up as I entered and smiled.

"Good morning, Flower!" she said brightly as I poured myself a cup of tea from the pot on the stove.

"Morning, Mum."

I was exhausted, and my muscles ached all over. Yawning, I searched the kitchen for Romeo. He was probably still _furious_ with me for making him stay in his crate in the rain, but he would get over it. I didn't see a trace of his black fur anywhere, though.

"Mum," I said slowly, "you didn't happen to let Romeo outside, did you? He's strictly an indoor cat."

"Oh, no," she said cheerfully. "He's up on top of the TV. He likes it up there because it's nice and warm."

She laughed, a bright, happy sound, and I couldn't help but smile. It had been a long time since I'd heard her laugh. It was good to know she still could. She looked good today, or at least better than she had last night. The circles under her eyes didn't look quite so dark, and she had actually put on some makeup. She was significantly skinnier, though; the pale pink shirt hung off her loosely, and she was practically swimming in her jeans. The same pink bandana was wrapped around her bald head as the one she'd been wearing last night.

I glanced away again, staring moodily into my teacup. Who decided that she deserved this? And why _couldn't_ I fix things? If Madame Pomfrey could cure asthma, why couldn't I cure cancer? It was funny, in a twisted, sadistic kind of way. I had all this magical talent, and I was the top witch of my class, and yet I still felt so _helpless_.

"Laurel's coming over today," Mum said conversationally, sitting down at the table across from me. She put two plates of bacon, eggs and sausage down: one in front of me, and a smaller one in front of her.

"Oh?" I said, setting down my tea and picking up my fork.

"Yeah. I bet she'll be happy to see you. You two haven't seen each other in quite a while, huh?"

Laurel was my mum's hospice nurse. She came by the house once or twice a week to check on Mum. Her job wasn't to help cure my mum, just make her more comfortable.

"Mmhmm," I said, spearing a sausage with my fork.

Mum suddenly set down her silverware. "Today's a good day, Lily," she declared confidently. "I can just _feel_ it."

I looked back up at her, and smiled at the look on her face. "That's excellent, Mum. I'm glad today's good."

"I think we should take a walk today, maybe after Laurel comes. What do you say?"

"Sounds like a good idea, if you think you're up to it."

"Of course I am! It's a _good_ day, remember?"

At the smell of food Romeo jumped lightly from the television and came meandering into the kitchen, mewling softly and rubbing against my legs, purring like a motorboat as I stroked him. I snuck a bit of bacon to him under the table.

Just then the phone rang, and my mum got up to answer it. "Hello?" A pause while she listened. "Oh, sure. She's right here." She put a hand over the receiver. "Lily, honey, it's one of your friends from school. Abby, I think she said."

I jumped up and took the phone. "Hello?"

"Lily, hiya!" It was indeed Abby. "Have a good first night back home?"

I thought about it, and then answered, "Yeah, it was all right. What's up?"

"I just got a letter from Annabelle," said Abby. "She says she cleared having us stay with her parents, and she asked me to call you. She didn't think sending an owl would be very wise, since your parents probably aren't used to that kind of thing."

I had never, ever told anyone at Hogwarts about my mum's "terminally ill" status, or that my dad had left us. "Well that's good, that she got it all cleared then," I said after a moment's pause. "When was she planning on having us over?"

"Today, I think. Hang on, let me check her letter." There was a muffled noise, like the wrinkling of parchment. "Yeah, this afternoon. She wants us to spend the night, too. Do you think you could?"

"Let me ask." I covered the phone like my mum had, then turned to her. "Hey, Mum. My other friend Annabelle invited Abby and I over to her house today for a sleepover. Can I go?"

My mother looked up from the paper. She looked a little crestfallen, but she quickly smiled. "Well, I guess I can't see why you couldn't spend some time with your friends."

"My mum says it's okay," I told Abby. "But do you have Belle's address?"

"Um, yeah, it's all here in her letter. Do you want my mum and I to pick you up? We could do that, if you wanted."

"Oh no," I said quickly. "I don't want to be a burden. I can just walk, or meet you somewhere."

My face was burning. I knew that I really just didn't want Abby and her mother to see the condition of _my_ mother. I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me, or her. We didn't need pity. _We have each other_, as she'd often told me. _That's all we need._

Abby and I made arrangements to meet up near Annabelle's house in a few hours' time.

"I'm sorry I'm not going on that walk with you," I said to my mum carefully after I'd gotten off the phone with Abby.

Mum smiled, but it was a kind of sad smile. "It's all right. You can hang out with your old mum anytime during the summer! You go out and have fun with your friends."

"Next time," I promised. "In fact, we'll go tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded, that sad smile still on her face, but it didn't reach her eyes. I knew she didn't dare hope for two good days in a row. I couldn't stand the feeling of guilt in my stomach, so I went to my room without finishing my breakfast to get ready.

**u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u**

Two hours later and I was striding toward Abby, who was standing on the corner of the street we agreed to meet on. When she saw me she started to wave energetically.

"Hi Abby!" I called brightly, jogging to get to her.

She hugged me. "Hi! Oh man, is tonight going to be fun or what?"

My smile faltered slightly. "I'm not exactly sure," I said, a bit nervously. "I mean…I don't know about this whole make over thing."

"Well, I'm sure it'll be fine," Abby said, in what she probably thought was a confident tone. I could tell she too was nervous though. Abby was sporty. She wasn't a girly-girl into makeup and boys and gossip like Annabelle. And neither was I, for that matter.

"Come on," I said, sighing resignedly. "We'd better get going."

And so we walked for about ten minutes, until we were suddenly standing on a street flanked by magnificent mansions on either side. My mouth dropped. It felt like only a second ago we'd been walking along a road next to an empty field, and then suddenly we were standing here! By the shocked look on her face, I could tell Abby hadn't been expecting this, either.

"Belle said her house was near the end of the road, on the right side," she said shakily, glancing around at all the houses. I noted that she too was awed by the sheer size and overall magnificence of them. "It's blue," she added as we began walking again.

"Is that it?" I asked a few moments later as a light blue house with white trim appeared beside a peach house.

Abby shrugged. "I suppose so," she said. For a moment we were silent, but it was an awkward kind of silence. I knew we were both thinking the same thing. She was the one to voice it, however. "Hey, Lily…did you know that Belle was rich?"

I shook my head. "She never mentioned anything about it," I said, "but then again, it's not a topic that often comes up in normal conversations. 'Hey guys. Did you know I'm rich?'"

"Good point," she said, nodding as we walked up the steps leading up to our friend's house.

I reached out and knocked on the white door and waited patiently until it was answered by seemingly no one. I looked around, confused, when I didn't see anyone standing in the doorway. Abby nudged me in the ribs and looked down, so I did, too. There was a tiny creature standing there holding the edge of the door, staring up at us from huge, pale coloured eyes. It had huge floppy ears, too, and a long pointed nose. It was clad in what looked like a toga. I could feel my mouth open and quickly shut it.

"How may Gerta help you?" it squeaked.

"Uh…" I said.

"We're here to see Annabelle Jones," said Abby politely, digging her elbow into my side again.

"The young mistress told Gerta her friends would come today," said the creature, and it swung the door open wider to allow us entrance to the house.

We stepped inside and watched as the creature went scurrying away. "What _was_ that?" I asked Abby while we waited for Annabelle in the foyer.

"That was a house elf, Lily," she replied, a hint of envy in her voice. "It's a creature that serves wizards unconditionally. They're really helpful. I asked my mum if we could get one—you know, to clean my room for me—but she said no."

"Why?"

"Well, we live in a Muggle area, so my dad can get to work easily and such," she said, shrugging. "It would be very strange for a Muggle to visit the house and see a house elf, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose it would!" After all, it had been quite a shock for me, being Muggle-born and having never seen such a creature before.

"Lily! Abby!" called a familiar squeal, and we both whirled around to see Annabelle come flying toward us.

"Hey Annabelle!" I said cheerfully as our blonde friend locked her arms first around Abby, who looked flustered and taken aback at the gesture, and then around me.

A moment later Annabelle had looped her arms through one of mine and one of Abby's and was leading us up a staircase, chatting non-stop about how much fun we were going to have, and how she'd planned everything out. She led us into her room, which was easily twice the size of mine and extremely pink. She stopped in front of her canopy bed, letting go of our arms and gesturing widely at the clothes and various makeup supplies spread up on it, grinning broadly at us both.

I looked first at Annabelle and then at Abby, a look of extreme apprehension on my face as cold panic began to wrap around my stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"I think we should get to work straight away," Annabelle declared, rummaging through the pile of clothes on her bed. "It's obviously going to take a while for the makeover to be completely perfect. So the sooner we start, the better."

"Belle," I said cautiously, "is _all_ this for the makeover?"

"Of course," she answered, waving a hand dismissively at me. "You didn't expect just a few new clothes and a seminar on using makeup, did you?"

I shrugged. I didn't know exactly _what_ I'd been expecting, but this was certainly not it. This was a lot to digest for someone like me who never wore makeup or worried at all about clothes. I could already tell this was going to be a very long process.

"Here, Lils, this looks like it could fit you," Annabelle said, tossing a bit of black fabric at me.

"What is it?" I asked, holding it at arm's length to examine it.

"A skirt, obviously."

My eyes widened. _This_ was a _skirt?_ Hardly. It would barely touch the middle of my thigh when I put it on.

"It's too small for me now," Annabelle went on conversationally, not looking at either of us while she looted through her clothing. "But I bet it will fit you nicely, with that ridiculously slim body of yours—"

"I am _not_ ridiculously thin!" I protested heatedly. "I'm just…petite. A little small for my age, that's all."

"Right. Ooh, Abby, this would be lovely on you!"

A look of horror appeared across the brunette's face. "It's _pink_!" she cried, dismayed, holding the equally short skirt between two fingers as if it were something disgusting.

Annabelle looked slightly irritated. Her chest puffed out, and she put her hands on her hips. "So?" she demanded.

"I don't _do_ pink," Abby snapped, trying to hand the skirt back. "Or skirts, for that matter!"

The blonde sighed heavily, ignoring the skirt Abby was practically shoving at her now. "If you two didn't want to do this, you should have said something earlier! I only wanted to help us have a truly amazing fourth year, but if you don't want—"

"It's not that we don't appreciate your effort, Belle," I said quickly, "it's just that…well, Abby and I are quite out of our comfort zones with this stuff. We aren't used to wearing things like you do."

"Which is _precisely _why we're doing this makeover in the first place!" Annabelle said heatedly. "If you don't want to do this, tell me now so I can stop wasting my time!"

Abby and I looked at each other, then back at our slightly overzealous friend. Shoulders slumped in defeat, I said, "Let's just get this over with."

**u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n**

We were locked up in Annabelle's room for hours before she finally allowed us to take a break. Since it was such a beautiful day (as sunny as it had been rainy the day before) we decided to enjoy some time outside in the Jones's well-kempt front lawn. We spent some time laughing and chasing each other in a game of tag, then resting on our backs for a while, and then Abby brought out the soccer ball she'd brought, and we had some fun kicking it around the vast green yard. Finally we collapsed once more on our backs and stared up at the clouds hanging in the perfectly blue sky above us.

"I know you guys probably think I'm being silly with all this makeover stuff," Annabelle said after a while, "but I really am only trying to help you guys so we'll all have a great year."

"We know," I answered, turning to smile warmly at her. She smiled back. "It's just going to take a while to get used to, that's all. We aren't used to all that fancy makeup and those clothes."

"But we'll get used to them eventually," Abby added, also smiling at Annabelle. "Like Lily said, it's just going to take time."

I opened my mouth to suggest to the other two that we go inside and eat but was interrupted by a huge green balloon filled with water hitting me square in the face. I was so shocked I simply laid there for a moment, dripping from head to toe in icy cold water, my mouth hanging open, while Abby and Annabelle sat up and stared at me in surprise.

That's when I heard it: the telltale laughter that made my blood boil. I pushed myself off the grass, furiously wiping water out of my eyes and pushing my sopping hair out of my eyes, looking around for the culprits. The other two followed suit.

"_**JAMES POTTER**_!" I roared, spotting said troublemaker standing in the yard of the peach house next to Annabelle's. Standing next to Potter was Sirius Black, and both of them were bent double in hysterics.

I stomped over to stand before them. "Just what do you two think you're doing?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You looked like you could use some cooling off, Evans!" James managed to say innocently between his guffaws of laughter.

"You—you—you—" I was so infuriated I was beyond words. My face was burning with anger, and I knew it would be a violent shade of red.

My inability to speak seemed to make the pair laugh even harder. They could hardly stand now, leaning against each other for support. I pulled back my arm to slap them both across the face, but somebody grabbed my wrist. Turning around, I found my best friends there, looking slightly alarmed at the murderous look in my eyes.

"Come on, Lily," said Abby, tugging on my wrist. "Let's go inside."

"Yeah, let's go eat," agreed Annabelle, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and leading me away from the boys.

"Hey, Evans!" called James after us, and I stopped to look over my shoulder, still glaring daggers. He winced slightly at my expression, but quickly straightened himself and swallowed the remainder of his laughter.

"What _now_?" I shouted back, even though I already knew what was coming next.

"Go out with me?" he asked innocently.

"_**NO**_!" I bellowed, and Abby and Annabelle had to lead me more forcefully back inside the house. Just before the door shut behind us, I heard Sirius's laughter being abruptly cut off, followed immediately by, "OW! What was _that_ for, James?"

"He's so…infuriating!" I steamed a few moments later as the three of us sat at the dining table, waiting for our dinner. I viciously towel-dried my hair, still fuming. "Does he _honestly_ think that pulling all these childish pranks is going to make me fall madly in love with him or something?"

"Who knows," said Annabelle. "But, Lily…maybe you _should_ consider going out with him."

"Excuse _me_?"

"He is handsome, you know," she said, clearly trying very hard not to meet my eyes. "And every girl who's gone out with him before say that he's really sweet, too, and quite the gentlemen!"

"He really fancies you," Abby added, also refusing to meet my disbelieving glance.

"The day I go out with James Potter is the day I commit myself to a mental institution or attempt to kill myself," I said, quite seriously. "I will not give in to his stupid requests, or ignore all the pranks he's pulled on me over the years. To accept a date with him would be like signing a deal with the devil. Not to mention it would thoroughly increase his already inflated ego."

They both shook their head but refrained from saying anything. They knew it was pointless to try and argue with me once I'd made up my mind about something.

Imagine, James Potter and I, dating. That would surely be the day of the apocalypse or something equally horrible. Everyone in their right minds knew that Black and Potter had a running bet with each other every year about how many girls they could get to date them. (Sadly enough, "everyone in their right mind" pretty much only includes me.) I would _not_ be another of their tallies on a scoreboard. It was positively revolting; girls just fell all over themselves to even get to _talk_ to the stupid gits! It's not like they had anything remotely intelligent to talk about anyway. Just Quidditch and how amazingly handsome and clever they were. The image of Potter and I as a couple was just absurd.

No. It would definitely _never_ happen. I'd sworn to myself in our very first year that I would _never_ date him, no matter how many times he asked, or how many times he even _begged_. He was infuriating, arrogant, immature—

Oh, you can get the idea, I'm sure. I could go on and on and on about all the words I frequently used to describe him, but honestly…he isn't worth the time it would take to list them all.

**u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n**

There certainly was _a lot_ to this "being pretty" stuff than most girls let on. There was so much to remember! Colours to never wear together, proper hairstyles that went with your outfit, makeup techniques…oh, boy. I had _no_ idea how I was expected to remember it all.

"Can we _please_ go to bed now?" I begged later that night. The sun had long since set, and my head was positively spinning from all the information Annabelle was trying to cram inside of it.

"I suppose so," Annabelle said, sighing heavily as if I had just asked for a ten foot chocolate cake to be delivered to her room in ten minutes.

To my horror, Abby was apparently really getting into this whole makeover business. She was hanging on every word out of our self-proclaimed beauty teacher's mouth. It would appear that my one ally in this had deserted me, and I was on my own now. Fabulous.

We all climbed into Annabelle's gigantic bed, and I fell asleep almost the instant my head hit the pink pillow.

* * *

A/N: So, this is my birthday present to myself (in addition to a very delicious broccoli and cheese omelette this morning). It's been a pretty awesome 17th birthday thus far, apart from a huge welt just below my left shoulder blade from my own stupidity and fear of heights while climbing a rock wall (gym class is seriously hazardous to my health, I swear), but reviews from you lovely readers would be amazing, too ;-)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The next day, Abby and I left Annabelle's after a lunch of homemade spaghetti. I was feeling a little resentful. It felt like Abby and Annabelle were becoming closer because of the makeover, while I became more distant.

_Next year is going to be _our_ year, girls!_

Would it really, though? Would a little bit of makeup and new clothes truly make the difference between next year and the three previous years? I didn't think so, but I also didn't want to voice my opinion to my friends. After all, they were both so excited about this, and who was I to spoil that happiness for them? Just because I was being forced out of my comfort zone didn't mean I had the right to try and make everyone else's lives miserable, too.

"You're awfully quiet today," Abby said from beside me as we made our way down to the sidewalk.

I shrugged. "I'm just really tired," I said, only half-lying. I _was_ tired, since we'd stayed up until midnight last night, but also…I didn't have much to say anymore. I didn't dare bring up my worries with Abby.

"Oh," she said, also shrugging. "Well, what did you think about the makeover? I really like it, actually. I mean, I'm still not too crazy about the pink, but I think I could learn to get used to it."

Oh boy. What now? I paused, searching around for something to say that wouldn't be an outright lie. I hated directly lying to people, especially my friends or family. I had precious few of either category to be betraying their trust by lying.

"Well, it certainly is…interesting," I said at last, forcing a smile as she glanced at me.

"It _is_, isn't it?" Her eyes were sparkling as she processed all of the possibilities a new look could give her. This felt so…_wrong_, somehow. Abby was supposed to be the well-liked athletic girl that didn't care about other people or looking good. What had changed in such a limited amount of time?

Why exactly _couldn't_ I get into this makeover thing? I supposed it would be nice to finally get some attention from boys. Well, okay, boys who did not have messy black hair and glasses and the mentality of a four year old on mind-altering drugs…

"FLOWER!"

Oh, dear. Speak of the devil. "Stop _calling_ me that!" I shouted automatically. I had only told James Potter not to call me Flower about a hundred million times since the first year, but the stupid twat did not seem to be capable of processing this.

"Are you girls leaving so soon?" Sirius called as Abby and I turned to see him and the one and only (thank whatever higher beings there might have been) James Potter come loping across the Potters' front lawn toward us.

"Why? Worried you won't have anyone else to prank now that I'm leaving?" I said, crossing my arms.

"No, actually," said James, grinning that stupid lopsided grin of his, "I wanted to show you my birthday present!"

"Is it your birthday today?" said Abby breathlessly, her cheeks once again pink, as they always were when in the presence of the Marauders.

James nodded enthusiastically, pulling something out from behind his back. It was a broomstick, and a rather expensive looking one at that. "My parents just gave it to me!"

"Let me get this straight," I said, clenching my fists at my side now. "You came running all the way down here to _brag_ about your stupid new broom?"

Sirius and James both looked appalled that I would have the audacity to call a broomstick stupid, but before Sirius could say anything James said quickly, "Well actually, what I really wanted was to invite you to my party today."

"Really?" Abby asked excitedly. "What time—"

"Excuse me," I interrupted, "but what makes you think that I'd want to celebrate another whole year of your existence, Potter, when all you do is _plague_ mine?"

James opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking remarkably like a fish. Beside him Sirius was fighting two emotions: amusement at my remark, and outrage that I'd be so mean to his best friend on his birthday.

"Did you _honestly_ think I'd want to come to your stupid birthday party after you so childishly played that stupid prank on me yesterday? And all the ones for the days before that?"

"Actually, Evans," James said finally, regaining his composure, "I was only extending the invitation to Prewitt here."

"I'm sure you were," I said, rolling my eyes. "Well, we'd really better get going, Abby."

I turned around and began walking, but after a few steps I realized that Abby hadn't moved. She was still standing in front of the boys, staring at the sidewalk.

"Abby?" I inquired.

"Um…" she said awkwardly. "Well, if James's party is today, starting soon, I think I ought to stay here at Annabelle's, so we can get ready together. It makes sense, rather than going home for an hour just to come back again."

It felt as if I had just been punched in the stomach. She was abandoning me? For _Potter_? Could this really be happening?

"So you're not coming back with me?" I asked at last, my voice rather quiet all of a sudden.

She wouldn't look at me. "It wouldn't make sense, would it?"

Unbidden, tears of anger and hurt sprang into my eyes. "No, of course not. Walking home with one of your best friends doesn't make any sense at all, does it? I wouldn't want you to go out of your way for me or anything, so I guess I'll see you later."

"Lily, that's not what I mean and you know it," Abby called after me helplessly.

"Don't worry about it," I replied coolly. "It's not like I can't find my own way home. I would have liked to have a little company, but it's fine. Have fun. See you on the train."

I spun around, grabbed my bag from where I'd set it on the ground and started walking briskly away from the trio on the sidewalk. I had almost gotten to the end of the street when I heard someone jogging behind me.

"Evans, wait!" Ugh. It was only Potter. For a moment I thought it was Abby, coming to apologize and walk home with me, but no such luck.

"What do you want?" I asked him, annoyed, as he caught up to me. "Wasn't stealing my best friends enough for you?"

"I'm not trying to steal them from you," he said earnestly. "I'm sorry about that. I came to officially invite you to my birthday party, if you want to come, that is."

"News flash, Potter," I snapped. "I don't."

I took a certain amount of pride at the look of shock on his face. "Listen up, Potter. Despite what you and that stupid ego of yours believe, you are _not_ the best thing to ever happen to women. Not every girl will just suddenly fall all over herself to be noticed by you, and I am one of the ones who won't. I personally believe that you are single-handedly the most annoying human being to ever be put on this planet."

He was doing the open-mouthed gape at me, again looking remarkably like a fish out of water. "I don't believe I'm the best thing to—"

"I'm not finished yet," I interrupted, putting a hand up to stop him. "In conclusion, it does not matter how many times you ask me out, or how many immature pranks you pull on me, or even how much money you offer me, I will never, ever date you."

"Well, from where I'm standing, it doesn't look like you've got very many options," he responded coolly, his eyes frosting over.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I asked indignantly.

"Annabelle told me about the makeover," he said haughtily. "I also know why you'd want to do one. The whole school thinks you're little miss goody-two shoes. I'm the only boy who ever gives you a second glance, Evans. The rest of the male population—and a good majority of the females as well—regard you as the school bookworm."

It was my turn to stare at him. His words hurt me, but I wasn't about to admit this to him. I shrugged nonchalantly, as if I could care less. "I'm doing this makeover to make my friends happy, not because I care what people think of me."

"Well, it's your turn to listen to _me_, Lily Evans," James said dangerously, lowering his voice and reaching out to grab one of my wrists. Although I would never admit this, either, the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice scared me. I swallowed. "If _I_ can't have you, _nobody else will, either!_"

I jerked my wrist out of his fingers and took a step away from him, glaring. "Oh, grow up, Potter! Do you really think a stupid threat like that is going to scare me or something?"

"You want _me_ to grow up?" he asked, glaring full-heartedly back at me. "You're the one who refuses to be civil to me! I've tried so many times to be nice to you, but you just believe whatever the hell you want to. You don't care about people's feelings! You just walk all over them like they mean nothing. How mature is _that_, Evans? Huh?"

I turned around and left, ignoring him. My blood was boiling. How _dare_ he? He was so…so…ugh. He was so infuriating he rendered me incapable of proper language skills. I stormed back toward my house, steaming.

Stupid Potter. Stupid Annabelle for telling Potter about the makeover, and stupid Abby for abandoning me for the enemies and giving into this stupid makeover.

I really ought to find a thesaurus, because that's a lot of times to use the word _stupid_. Note to self: increase the size of my vocabulary and find some new words to describe Potter in all of his horribleness. Another note to self: tell Annabelle and Abby off for their violation of the Best Friend's Handbook.

The final note to self: get rid of the guilty feeling in stomach caused by Potter's words and your own abandonment of your sick mother to hang out with a bunch of idiots.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Did you enjoy your stay with your friends, Flower?" my mum asked when I plopped down onto the couch beside her. I had wasted all my angry energy on my walk home, so now I was rather tired.

For a moment, I considered lying again and saying everything had gone perfectly at Annabelle's house. I even had my mouth open, the story halfway out of my mouth, before I switched to the truth. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I told her everything, the good parts and the bad. My mum and I had always been close, but we'd gotten a lot closer since Dad and Petunia had left us. I felt like she was truly the only person I could trust to tell everything to.

There was a short silence after I finally stopped talking while my mum processed everything I had just told her. She looked thoughtful, with her index finger tapping her lip gently. I couldn't help but smile; that had always been a gesture of hers when she was considering something very carefully. It was good, getting to see a little bit of the old mum shine through this bruised and sickly husk of a woman.

"Well, for one thing, I do think you were a bit harsh with this James boy," she said at last. Her tone was gentle, as she knew I was liable to blow up at this subject. As always, she could pick up on the most pressing issues of my life just with a simple rant. "After all, he was only trying to be nice to you by inviting you to his party. Perhaps he was trying to go for a truce?"

"But Mum! He's _James Potter_!" I cried, as if this was supposed to mean something significant to her.

She simply blinked back at me. "I still think you could have been nicer to him. After all, it is his birthday and you were quite rude to him. Besides that, you should always try to be at least civil to everyone. We raised you better than that, Lily."

I gritted my teeth and glared at the carpet. "_He_ wasn't nice," I spat.

Next to me, my mum sighed. "We aren't talking about James Potter anymore, are we?"

I said nothing, digging my nails into my thighs instead. No. We were no longer talking about that idiot.

"Honey, how long are you going to hold a grudge against him?" Mum asked quietly, resting a bony hand on my shoulder.

"Forever!" I snapped, stilling not looking at her. "He left us, Mum. He doesn't care about us, and I bet you he hasn't had one decent thought about us since he left! He just left you and his daughters alone to fend for ourselves!"

Once again, she sighed. "Lily, he's your father. You can't feel like this forever. You have to learn to let go of the negative feelings, Flower. If you keep holding onto your anger, it's going to eat you up inside. You'll become bitter and cold. I couldn't bear to see you like that."

"Why shouldn't I be angry?" I shouted, jumping off the couch, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "Aren't you? He basically told us that he didn't care what happened to us! He left you alone to _die_, Mum!"

"H-he couldn't handle it," she said softly, but she wouldn't look at me. "He just had a lot on his mind—"

"HIS FAMILY SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONLY THING ON HIS MIND!" I yelled, scaring Romeo so that he went streaking past my legs down the hall to my room. "HE SHOULD HAVE STAYED TO TAKE CARE OF YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE STILL DEFENDING HIM!"

"I love him, Lily," my mum said, meeting my eyes again. She was crying. "I always have, and I probably always will. You don't just wake up and stop loving somebody."

"I did," I said flatly.

"You don't mean that," she said firmly, shaking her head. "He's your father! You love him. You're just angry and hurt—"

"Get real, Mother! Do you really think he still loves us? If he did, he wouldn't have left!" I was panting and my face was hot; I knew it would be red. My eyes were burning but I refused to cry.

"Of course he loves us!" she said fiercely. "Don't you dare say that he doesn't! And I know you love him, too—"

"NO I DON'T!" I screamed, slamming my palms flat against my thighs with a loud slapping sound. "I _HATE_ HIM!"

Before I knew what was happening, my mum had leapt off the couch and slapped me, hard, across the face. "Don't you _ever_ say that again, young lady!" she hissed. I simply stared back at her, holding the side of my face in shock. My mother had never, ever hit me before.

Suddenly she swayed on her feet. Wordlessly I helped her over to the couch so she could lie down for a while. I fixed her a cup of tea and brought her some painkillers.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely. As I turned to go to my room, however, she latched onto my wrist. I looked down into her pale face to find that she was still crying, and she looked as shocked at her behaviour as I felt. "I'm sorry, Flower. I can't believe I—I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry. I just got so _angry_…I shouldn't have hit you."

"It's okay," I assured her, giving her a small smile and a squeeze of her hand. "I shouldn't have said that I hated him."

As I turned away, I muttered under my breath, "Even if it was true."

**u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u**

The next day, my mum and I went on a walk right after breakfast. I could tell that she wasn't really feeling up to it, but I also knew that she was trying to make up for the row last night. We tried to pretend everything was normal, but there was an underlying awkwardness whenever we spoke to each other that proved otherwise. I hated the fact that I had let that good-for-nothing man open up a chasm between my mum and I. There had once been a time when I'd thought our relationship was forged from marble: solid and unbreakable. But I now knew that a difference of opinions had cracked that slab of rock.

Steadily, however, over the next few weeks, things got better. We never mentioned the fight on an unspoken agreement. It gradually got easier to speak to each other without the discomfort that had been there previously.

Unfortunately, though, it seemed to me that my mum's health was growing worse. She was getting paler and paler by the day, and steadily lost her appetite. She soon stopped going out of the house altogether, and it seemed to me that Laurel was coming over a lot more often.

"Complications due to the cancer," the curly-haired nurse replied when I asked what was going on.

"Laurel, I'm not stupid," I said, putting my hands on my hips. We were standing in the driveway after one of her visits. "Tell me what's going on."

"I did," she said distractedly, searching around her purse for her car keys.

"She's my mother, Laurel. I deserve to know what's _really_ going on," I said more persistently. "Explain it to me."

Suddenly she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Pushing her mop of dishwater blonde hair out of her face, she put a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes. "The chemo has compromised Ruth's immune system, Lily. She can't fight off infections anymore. Even simple illnesses, such as the common cold, leave her body exhausted."

"But she stopped chemo months ago," I protested, shaking my head.

"Yes, but the radiation destroyed most—if not all—the white blood cells in her body. Her body is simply running out of defence mechanisms."

"Well, that's just fantastic! If the disease doesn't kill you, the cure will, right?" I sounded haughty and mean, but I couldn't help it. I knew it wasn't Laurel's fault this was happening to my mum, but I was lashing out at her anyway because she was the only one I _could_ lash out at.

Laurel reached out and set a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I know this is tough on you, but I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of your strength so far, Lily. I've seen dozens of children your age deal with the same thing you are, and not one have been able to handle it so maturely. Your level-headedness gives your mother strength; you're her anchor."

Averting my gaze to the ground beneath me, I thought about this last statement. Me…strong? I was definitely not physically strong. I was just a scrawny little runt, as so many people seemed to love to point out to me. I didn't think I was all that mentally strong, either. If I had been, surely I would have found a magical cure for this by now. Before I knew it, Laurel was letting go of my shoulder and getting into her car again.

Finally I turned and went back inside the house.

**u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u**

About a week later, I got my yearly Hogwarts letter, with my list of supplies for the upcoming year. This would mark the very first summer that I would be going to Diagon Alley alone; given my mother's worsening condition, I doubted she would be able to come with me. So, I gathered up some of the money I'd made babysitting for the neighbours and took a taxicab right to the Leaky Cauldron. I paid the driver and got out, heading for the pub.

My first stop was Gringotts, to exchange my Muggle money for the wizarding currency so I could buy my supplies. Once that was done, I made my way into the shops that lined the cobblestone street. As I passed the owl emporium on my way to the Apothecary to stock up on potions ingredients, the hooting of the many birds filled my ears. On pure whim, I ducked inside the shop, which was kept quite dark and smelled a bit funny. Peering into cage after cage, I finally stopped in front of one that held a brown owl speckled with white. Its large amber eyes stared unblinkingly back at me, and I turned to find the shopkeeper standing right behind me, grinning from ear to ear.

"This one, then?" was all he said.

Slightly uncomfortable, I nodded. I paid for the bird and as I stepped back into the bright sunlight, I contemplated my purchase. I already had a pet for Hogwarts (Romeo) but I realized that getting this owl was actually a rather smart idea. After all, if my mum ever needed to get a hold of me, an owl was the ideal way. However, I tried not to think about _why_ my mum might need to contact me.

As I made my way back to the Leaky Cauldron, I watched as a group of people gathered outside of the Quidditch shop. They were goggling at the latest broom model, which I noticed looked remarkably similar to the one James had been showing off on his birthday. I tripped over my own feet and nearly fell on my face when I realized it didn't just _look _similar; _it was the same broom!_ I couldn't help but feel a surge of jealousy.

Quidditch and flying had always been my secret and guilty pleasure. I loved going to all the games and watching the players, and I had loved flying ever since I'd first tried it in my first year. I hadn't told anyone—not even Abby or Annabelle—about my obsession because I figured they would think it was silly. Even though Abby herself was a Quidditch player, I thought she would scorn my desire to be on the team, too, because I was small and not very coordinated. That never stopped me from fantasizing about it, though.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know...kind of another lame-ish chapter. This story is going really slowly, unlike my other one, and I just hope you guys can be patient with me, because I know it's slow, but I do have some pretty big plans for the plot and such, so yeah. Just be patient, k? As always, please review! I love you guys! ;-)


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

On the morning of 1 September, I was in turmoil. I had woken up at 7, ate breakfast, made sure I had all my school supplies, and then showered. Then I stood in front of my closet, wrapped in only a towel, my hair dripping, trying to decide what I was going to wear. I could, of course, grab a T-shirt and a pair of shorts like I would normally, but then again, I also had the option of choosing from the outfits Annabelle had given me for the makeover. It would please both Abby and Annabelle if I were to show up on the train wearing a flashy tank top and skirt with flip flops, with my hair all done-up in one of the many styles Annabelle had demonstrated for us.

On the other hand, if I chose such an outfit, I would have to explain it to my mum, and I didn't think she'd be too keen on the idea of a makeover. I could practically hear her right then. "_Oh, Flower. You shouldn't change yourself so others will like you. If they really like you, they wouldn't ask you to change. Your friends should accept you for who you are._"

In the end I finally decided on the shorts and T-shirt option. After all, it's not like I couldn't change on the train, if that's what it really came down to, and I'm sure it would. As soon as the other two saw me in my "normal" attire, they would throw a fit and insist I change and let them do my hair and makeup.

"Don't forget to feed Tybalt," I reminded my mother as I preformed my routine double check of the entire house to ensure that I hadn't forgotten anything. "And let him out of his cage every night to fly around. He needs to stretch his wings."

Tybalt was the name I had decided on for the owl I'd purchased. This was due to the fact that he and Romeo absolutely hated each other. There had been a battle between them from the very beginning. Upon inspecting the bird's cage the day I brought Tybalt home, Romeo began hissing and spitting, and Tybalt promptly began trying to claw the cat's eyes out with his talons. My mother suggested that I name the owl Tybalt, insisting it would be the perfect name for Romeo's archenemy. She and I were both Shakespeare lovers.

"Don't worry so much," rasped my mum from the kitchen doorway. She was watching me reorganize my trunk for the third time to fit in the spare quill I had found under some papers stacked on the coffee table. "Lily, you know that you didn't have to take out everything in your trunk just to fit in a silly quill, don't you? You could have just put it on the top."

"But then it wouldn't have been with my other quills," I replied distractedly. "I have to be organized, Mum. That way if I need something from my trunk, I know exactly where it is and I don't have to waste time searching for it."

"You're obsessive-compulsive," she teased, smiling weakly at me.

I automatically shook my head in denial. "No I'm not. There's nothing wrong with being organized."

"No, there isn't, but you're more than just organized, dear. You're obsessive. You've got it down to an art."

I chose not to respond to this, instead focusing on folding my robes so they wouldn't crease. Maybe I was a bit on the obsessive-compulsive side, but so what?

"Now here's some money, Flower, in case you need anything while you're at school, okay?"

I stood up and took the crisp notes from my mum's hand and tucked them in my pocket. Outside a horn honked, and we both turned to look out the front window. Laurel had agreed to take me to the train station this morning, since my mum was too weak to drive me.

"Now remember, if you need to get in touch with me, simply write a letter and tie it to Tybalt's leg, all right? Don't worry about addressing it or anything. Just tell him to take it to me, and he'll do the rest."

She pulled me into a surprisingly fierce hug for such a frail woman. "Don't you worry about me. I just want you to have a good term, and I'll see you at Christmas. Tybalt and I will be just fine. I promise to feed him and let him out every night to exercise his wings. Now you better get going, or else you'll be late!"

"Goodbye, Mum. I love you!" I called over my shoulder as I hauled my trunk out the front door.

"I love you too, Flower."

Laurel helped me lift my heavy trunk into the boot of her car, and off we went. I had her drop me off just inside the station, with my trunk and Romeo's cage all settled on a trolley. I wheeled my way over to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, leaning casually against it as a group of Muggles passed by.

"_There_ you are!" called a loud voice, and I felt someone grab me by the arm as I passed through the barrier. "I have been looking all over—what on earth are you _wearing_?"

"Hello to you too, Annabelle," I said dryly. "My summer was lovely, thanks for asking."

"Why aren't you wearing one of the outfits I gave you?" she asked sternly, looking me up and down. "And why haven't you done anything with your hair?"

"I did do something with my hair! I straightened this morning," I said defensively, instinctively reaching up to smooth down my long red hair.

"You do that almost _every_ morning, but then you don't do anything _else_ with it. You just leave it down! Now come on," the blonde said, pulling me toward the scarlet steam engine. "Abby's saving us seats!"

"That's nice of her," I said, wincing at the tight grip she had on my upper arm.

"We have to get started right away if you're going to be ready by the time we get there, you know," Annabelle continued irritably, as if I had caused a huge inconvenience to her. "Goodness, Lily. You're practically impossible! I had no idea you were going to be so stubborn about the whole thing. I mean, even Abby's following my instructions, and quite frankly, I was expecting her to be the impossible one. I thought you'd be really eager to do this, since—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," I said warningly, wrenching my arm from her grip.

Annabelle rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Lily. But hurry up, would you? We've got a lot to do!"

I followed her down the aisle and into a compartment toward the back of the train, which was completely empty aside from Abby, who was indeed dressed in a jean skirt and white tank top, her black hair pulled away from her face with a sparkly clip.

"What are you wearing?" she asked as soon as I entered. I had to bite my tongue to keep from snapping back.

"You see?" Annabelle said haughtily, putting her hands on her hips. "I _told_ you!"

I simply stuck my tongue out at her.

"That's not a very ladylike gesture, Lily," the blonde said, frowning disapprovingly at me.

"You're just jealous because my tongue's longer than yours," I said, the same remark I made every time someone bothered me about sticking out my tongue, which happened to be one of my favourite gestures.

Apparently Annabelle chose to ignore my comment.

"I had _no_ idea it was going to take so long to get you fully made-over! There's so much still I have yet to teach you! You should have been at my house _a lot_ more over the summer. I could have taught you so much more, like with Abby—"

"Well I didn't particularly feel like coming over after what happened the last time," I snapped.

"What do you mean?" Annabelle asked, glancing curiously between Abby and me. I was glaring at the seated girl and the latter was doing her best not to meet my murderous gaze and looking quite ashamed.

"You both abandoned me to go to James Potter's stupid birthday party! _That's_ what I mean!"

"We most certainly did not abandon you," Annabelle shot back indignantly. "You could have come, if you wanted to! He did invite you, after all. We can't help it if you want to be stubborn and childish."

"E-ex_cu_se me?" I stammered, blinking rapidly and trying to make sense of the situation. Has she just called me _childish_? My best friend, calling _me_ childish? I had to have heard her wrong.

"Let's not fight, okay?" Abby said uncertainly, now looking between Annabelle and me. "It's no big deal, right? So let's just forget the whole thing and move on."

It _was_ a big deal, at least to me. In my opinion, friends always came before boys; I'd thought that my best friends had felt the same way, but they proved me wrong by choosing Potter over me, and now Annabelle was getting hysterical over my outfit and calling me immature?

But, as usual, I kept my mouth shut and let Annabelle push me into a seat.

**u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n**

"Stop fidgeting," Annabelle whispered harshly as we exited the train.

"I can't help it!" I practically snarled back. "I'm nervous!"

Which, of course, felt like the understatement of the year.

Pulling my robes and cloak more tightly around my shaking body, I watched as the other students poured out onto the platform, all chattering about their summer holidays. There was a heavy, wet fog surrounding Hogsmeade station, but for the first time since I'd begun attending Hogwarts, it wasn't raining. It was still really cold, of course, with the fog and chilling breeze wafting up from the lake, but at least it wasn't raining.

"Come on," Abby urged, taking both Annabelle and I by the arms and pushing through the throng of students just as Hagrid began calling all the first years toward him. "Let's get a carriage to ourselves."

Trembling almost uncontrollably at this point, I hurried after them, hoping to find a horseless carriage soon because I was freezing. Part of my shaking, I knew, was from my trepidation at everyone's reaction to the makeover, but I couldn't help it. Would this _really_ change the outcome of our whole year?

Finally we were seated together in a carriage. While we rolled slowly up to the castle, Abby and Annabelle chatted merrily, discussing what the overall reaction to our new looks might be. As we drew ever closer, I couldn't help but get more and more anxious.

"Do you think Skip might finally notice me now?" Abby asked Annabelle excitedly, referring to a boy in our year in Hufflepuff.

"Oh, Abby, not only will Skip notice you, but so will the rest of the boys in the school!" Annabelle gushed, grinning broadly.

Just before we exited the carriage Annabelle announced that we should make ourselves fashionably late to the feast, so that everyone would naturally look at us as we entered.

"Uh, uh," I objected vehemently, shaking my head. "No way. Next year is the year they decide Prefects. I couldn't possibly be late to the feast; what kind of example to the first years is that?"

"Oh, come _on_, Lily! Of course you'll get Prefect! Five minutes won't change that!" Abby said.

Once again I shook my head. Yes, I'd spent hours and hours learning about makeup and hair and how to walk "properly" without complaining because I wanted to please my friends, but this was one issue on which I refused to budge. Once upon a time, I might have assumed that the other two would give up at my refusal and come sit with me in the great hall, but they decided to go ahead with the plan without me, and I had known they would. Not for the first time since it had been suggested, I began to wonder if this makeover was going to be worth it in the end after all. If it had already started putting a rift in what used to be an inseparable friendship, what would become of the "Three Amigas" of Hogwarts?


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

I watched along with the rest of the school as, ten minutes into the feast and after the sorting, the doors opened and along came Abby and Annabelle, glowing and looking confident, strolling into the room arm in arm. Immediately whispers began to circulate as some students identified the two latecomers.

"Well there's Jones and Prewitt," said Sirius from around his mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Yeah, but where's Evans?" James asked, craning his neck to see outside the doors behind Abby and Annabelle, as if he expected me to be along at any moment.

"It sure is rare to see them without her," Peter said conversationally, helping himself to James's abandoned dinner plate while the latter's attention was preoccupied.

I thought about interrupting their conversation about me, considering I was sitting almost directly opposite them, but decided against it. I preferred not to draw much attention to myself.

Which failed dramatically as my friends came to sit next to me, saying loudly, "Hi, Lily!"

I felt my cheeks colour as several people all down the table turned to look at me. I sank down in my seat, hoping desperately no one would talk to me.

"Evans? Is that _you_?" Sirius demanded incredulously, leaning over Remus to stare open-mouthed at me.

Eyeing the food visible in his mouth with disgust, I said, "Close your mouth before you catch a bug or something. You look ridiculous. You, too, Potter, Pettigrew and Lupin. If you keep your faces like that for very long, they'll freeze that way, although in your cases it might be a point in your favours."

"It _is_ her!" Peter exclaimed in disbelief.

I was growing more and more embarrassed by the moment as I noticed people tapping their neighbours on the shoulder and pointing at me, whispering animatedly. Soon people at other tables were swivelling in their seats and craning their necks to get a good look at me.

"Gorgeous, isn't she?" Annabelle called brightly to no one in particular, beaming at me while carefully choosing food and placing it on her plate.

Trying hard to hide my burning face, I bent over my dinner and began to eat.

"Absolutely stunning," gushed Abby enthusiastically when no one answered Annabelle.

I rolled my eyes at their pathetic attempt to get me noticed, but at least they were trying to help me. Still, though…I didn't think it was absolutely necessary to keep going on and on like they currently were, like how I'd had so much potential to be beautiful _before_ the makeover, but I'd needed someone to just bring it out (Annabelle was taking all the credit).

I didn't know, however, how much more of the staring I was going to be able to endure. I was already fighting to keep control of my notorious temper and not scream at everyone to go back to his or her dinner and stop ogling me. But, on the other hand, I could sort of understand their shock. After all, I had to admit that I did indeed look a _lot_ different than when my fellow peers had last seen me. For the millionth time I surreptitiously checked my reflection in the goblet sitting in front of me.

Most of my flaming hair was beneath the black hat on top of my head, due to the fancy up-do Annabelle had given me during the train ride to the castle, but a few tendrils had escaped and hung delicately around my face. (This probably accounted for the fact that no one had spotted me earlier, what with my conspicuously coloured hair tucked up into my hat.) My best feature by far, as declared by both my best friends, were my green eyes, and Annabelle had really made them stand out with a bit of carefully applied brown eyeliner, a mix of plum and dark green eye shadow, and lengthening green mascara. Personally, I couldn't even see that the mascara was green, but I couldn't deny that my eyes definitely…_popped_ now. I wasn't sure how I felt about all this extra makeup. It seemed a little over the top, but I had been assured over and over again by my friends that boys liked girls who wore it.

As I went back to eating my dinner, I couldn't help but notice that I _was_ on the receiving end of quite a few male glances, but instead of feeling elated, my stomach erupted into a swarm of butterflies and I was sure that I would not be able to finish the rest of my dinner now.

After dinner (which I had indeed finish very little of), I allowed myself to be squished between Abby and Annabelle, but rather than joining in on their conversation, I let my mind drift to my spell books, which were now upstairs at the foot of my bed in my trunk. I was thoroughly excited at the prospect of learning more complex magic this year, but I was incredibly nervous that I would be expected to also learn the highly complex rules of socializing with other people, which was definitely a skill I was lacking in.

It was not like I was purposely anti-social, it was more like I just wasn't used to having many friends. Even before Hogwarts, back in Muggle primary school, I hadn't been very popular with the other children and rarely ever talked to people my own age outside of school. I hadn't really _wanted_ to, either. I found most of my peers extremely dull, and thought the adults around me had more interesting things to say. For a while, my parents had tried to get me to become more involved with my classmates by inviting them over for tea, and on such occasions, I did try to be friendly, because I knew it was important to my mum and dad to see me with "friends," but then my mother had gotten sick, and I hastened to severe any and all ties with anyone outside of the family.

When I had come to Hogwarts, I thought things would be the same, but I was surprised when, on the first train ride, Annabelle had shown interest in being my friend, and actually had a lot of interesting things to say, seeing how she was pureblood and I Muggle-born, and she could teach me a lot about this new world to which I now belonged. Shortly thereafter we had met Abby in the boats crossing the lake; she'd admitted that she was terrified to be going to this new school where she knew virtually no one, and had also confided in us that she was half and half and scared that no one would want to have her as a friend.

"Don't you think, Lily?"

I was torn from my reverie by the sound of Abby's voice in the present, and I realized with a start that we were standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady already.

"What?" I asked, confused.

Annabelle heaved a huge sigh, a new habit of hers that she whipped out whenever she thought I was doing something that, as she put it, "went against the makeover."

"I'm sorry, I must have drifted away there for a bit," I said, once again reigning in my temper to keep from snapping at my best friend.

"I was just saying that a lot of the boys seemed to be really interested in you back there at dinner," Abby said, climbing through the portrait hole into the common room after Annabelle.

I laughed a bit nervously. "Oh, I don't know about that. I didn't see all _that_ many boys looking at me or anything."

"That's because you were so intent on slouching down in your seat in order _not_ to be seen that you didn't notice all the boys staring at you," Annabelle said curtly. "You know, the whole _point_ of the makeover was—"

"—to get me more noticed," I finished for her. "I know, I know. But I just get nervous, all right? I'm not _used_ to all this attention! I don't know how to act."

For a moment we were all silent. Finally Abby broke it, unable to stand all the tension. "It's okay, Lily, we understand," she said brightly, looking between Annabelle and me. "You just need some more time to adjust to it, that's all! You'll be acting more normally in no time."

I opened my mouth to retort that it was not _I_ who was acting abnormal, but they, but Annabelle cut across me. "Oh, stop arguing, would you?" she said, sounding somewhat annoyed now. "You needn't behave so—"

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence if you're going to say what I think you're going to," I interrupted heatedly, hardly aware that other Gryffindors were starting to enter the common room now. I crossed the room to sit in my favourite armchair by the fire, removing my hat and robes, feeling too jittery to be self-conscious.

"How would you know what I'm going to say if you don't even let me _say_ it?"

"I'd like to think that I know you well enough by know to just be able to tell what you're thinking, and if it has anything to do with being child—"

"Ladies, ladies, ladies," called a voice suavely from near the portrait hole. The three of us whirled around, and I nearly groaned at the sight of Sirius coming toward us, followed, of course, by the other three Marauders. "Let's not get testy!"

"Oh, stay out of this," I said, my voice half-moaning. The last thing I needed was this lot coming to make my night worse. Especially Potter.

"Hello boys," Annabelle said cheerfully, apparently ignoring me.

"Hello," echoed Abby. "Did you boys have a good summer?"

Rolling my eyes and fighting the urge to gag, I stood and gathered my things and starting making my way toward the girls' dormitories. Before I could make my escape, however, someone noticed me.

"Running off already, Evans?" called a cold voice after me, and instantly I froze, my limbs full of a frosty anger.

Slowly I turned around, glaring, and put a hand to my hip. James was staring right back at me, looking bored. "Well I don't exactly have a good reason to stay and chat," I replied coolly.

Several people sniggered. They had all learned by now that when James and I were in the same room, chaos was bound to ensue, and they loved to watch. I, however, was definitely not in the type of mood to deal with Potter and his idiocy.

Before I was given the chance to turn away, though, someone else spoke to me. "I like the outfit, Evans!" Sirius said cheerfully, and immediately I felt my cheeks burn.

Hastily I tried to pull my robe on to hide the nearly see-through white blouse and short black skirt Annabelle had insisted I wear. In the process, I dropped my hat and then nearly lost my balance when I tried to pick it up. Everyone started laughing, and I blushed even more, hurrying up to the dorm and slamming the door behind me.

Tossing my robe and hat onto my bed, I began pacing around the room, my face hot and eyes burning. I caught sight of my reflection in a full-length mirror and stepped closer to get a better look at myself. It was exactly as I'd feared: I looked awful. Stray bits of hair had escaped the many bobby pins Annabelle had stuck in my head, the brown that lined one eye had smudged and now looked like dirt underneath my eye. From beneath the edge of the skirt, my scrawny, pale legs stuck out awkwardly, and my too-skinny arms hung limply at my sides.

This had been _such_ a bad idea! Why had I let those girls talk me into this? I looked ridiculous. No matter how much makeup I wore, or how good my hair looked, or how short my skirt was, no boy in his right mind would want me. James had been right, which in itself was humiliating.

I jerked away from the mirror and threw myself onto my bed, drawing the hangings around it for privacy. Wouldn't it just figure that the only boy who ever really spared me a second glance was the same boy who spent half of his time developing pranks to make me miserable?

Hot, unbidden tears rolled down my cheeks, and I swiped futilely at them. So much for the first night back.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The next morning was a whirlwind of activity. I was awoken promptly at five thirty by Annabelle, who insisted we would need several hours to get ready for the day. I was too tired to argue as she sat me down on a stool she'd conjured (she was quite the talented witch, if she would only use her powers for good) and began attacking my hair with a brush and straightening spells.

I soon began to wake up more fully, however, and as soon as I managed to prise my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I began arguing immediately. "You know, all this is really pointless," I told the blonde, stifling a yawn. "I'm just going to get in the shower, and then my hair will be curly again."

"That's why you're not going to take a shower this morning," she answered almost absently while stroking my hair with a brush. "Oh don't look so shocked. You should start taking showers at night; it leaves more time to prepare in the morning. You can just go to bed with it curly, and deal with it in the morning."

I blinked, and opened my mouth to argue but just at that moment, Abby came bouncing up, looking anxious and holding up two almost identical shirts. "Which one should I wear, Belle?"

Annabelle seemed to contemplate the two shirts for several moments, a thick strand of my hair still clutched in her fist, while Abby bit her lip. "That one," she declared finally, pointing to the one in Abby's left hand.

"Oh, thank you!"

I frowned. They had been essentially the same shirt! The only real difference I could see between them was that one had a slightly lower neckline than the other. Did it _really_ matter that much? I shook my head, and winced as the motion caused Annabelle to yank on my hair.

"Hold still, would you? I'm going to rip out a whole handful of your hair if you keep doing that!"

I scowled and mimicked her whiny voice, which only earned me another jerk of my hair. Finally I crossed my arms over my chest and resorted to pouting pathetically. I couldn't believe what I had gotten myself into with this whole makeover deal. I'd originally thought that we'd wear a little more makeup now and then and learn different styles for our hair and that would be it. I'd had _no_ idea everything would turn out to be quite so…different! It seemed the further along this makeover progressed, the further apart Abby, Annabelle and I became.

Looking a little cuter hardly seemed worth losing three amazing, strong years of friendship.

**u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n u n**

I eyed the scant amount of food sitting on the plate in front of me with growing disdain. Looking around, I could see the other Gryffindors piling their own plates high with eggs, bacon, toast and sausage, happily chatting with those around them. Turning back to my own sparse rations of a single piece of toast (without butter or jam) and a handful of scrambled eggs, I wondered murderously why Annabelle had insisted we go on this stupid diet. I, for one, knew that I was not in the least bit fat (on the contrary, half the world seemed to think I was anorexic), but the curvy blonde had insisted that it would be good for all of us to "cut a bit of weight." She also said that boys didn't like girls who ate more food than they did.

Even Abby was having a hard time with this new lack of food. "But all the other girls are eating more than this, and they're perfectly skinny and attractive," she complained, looking at her own breakfast plate with bitter disappointment.

"And look where more than half the boys are actually looking, girls," Annabelle replied in a low, confident voice, taking a tinny sip of the water in her goblet.

Despite my protesting and hungry stomach, I couldn't help but feel a little thrill run through me as I surreptitiously glanced around the hall to find that, indeed, quite a few male glances had strayed over to the three of us, sitting by ourselves at the end of the Gryffindor table. The thrill only lasted for a few moments, though, because my eyes caught on those of James Potter's, and I instantly felt anger begin to bubble up inside. I glared and turned back to my food, picked up my fork, and began to stab viciously at my eggs.

"You girls really don't have to be so grumpy," Annabelle said irritably as McGonagall began passing out the new schedules. "I'm just trying to do what's best for all of us. Boys like thin girls."

I rolled my perfectly lined eyes but bit my tongue, opting instead to look over the schedules. We had a double lesson of Charms with the Ravenclaws first, and almost instantly I felt relief coursing through my system. Charms was definitely my favourite subject, and always managed to cheer me up whenever I was in a poor mood.

As we made our way up the stairs after breakfast, I felt someone tap my shoulder, and turned around to see a Ravenclaw boy behind me, looking a little shy. To be honest, he was rather cute, with slightly tussled blonde hair, blue eyes, and an open smile.

"Hi," he said, extending a hand to me as we reached the landing. "My name's Davie Sathers."

Fixing the strap of my book bag to fit more comfortably on my shoulder, I reached out and took his hand, shaking it. "Hi. I'm Lily Evans."

He shuffled his feet, looking even more nervous than before. "I was wondering—would you like to sit next to me in Flitwick's lesson today?"

I glanced around to find Abby and Annabelle hovering behind me like vultures. Annabelle caught my eye and nodded enthusiastically, a mad gleam in her eyes.

"Uh, sure," I said, turning back to Davie and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Annabelle had wanted to twist my wild mane of hair into another elegant bun like she had done the previous night, but had given up after an hour of fussing with it, and let me simply wear it down, looking glossy and straight. She had forbidden me from putting it into a ponytail, however, which is what I usually did with it.

"Great!" he exclaimed, then coughed awkwardly and averted his gaze from mine. "I…umm, I mean cool."

I smiled kindly, and stomped hard on Annabelle's foot to quiet her stupid giggling behind me. She grunted, but apparently got the hint, as her giggles were immediately silenced.

"Come on, Davie, let's go get a table close to the front," I said, striding past the other two girls, Davie at my side, to find some good seats.

He followed me almost like a puppy while I scanned the tables, finally choosing the one nearest to where Professor Flitwick would be. We settled our bags down in front of us and sat down.

"I really like Charms," I said, just to make conversation. "It's my favourite subject."

"I'm personally partial to Transfiguration, actually," said Davie, seeming to relax now that I was away from my friends and talking about an easy subject.

"Oh, I'm horrible at Transfiguration," I said, reaching into my bag and withdrawing a quill and some parchment for notes. "It's not that I don't like it, per se, it's just not my best subject."

"To be honest, Transfiguration isn't my best subject either," he admitted, smiling at me across the table while around us the seats were being taken up by our fellows. "But I really like the challenge of it."

I nodded in agreement. "It _is_ quite a challenge, but I wouldn't dream of dropping it. I find it really interesting."

"Plus your head of house teaches it, and if you were to drop it, McGonagall would probably hunt you down," he said, and we both laughed.

"Yes, I suppose that definitely has something to do with why I would never even _think_ about dropping it!"

"She's a stern woman, McGonagall," Davie said, but not meanly. "I totally respect her. She's a really talented witch, and she doesn't play favourites, unlike every other teacher in the whole school, which I really like about her. She treats all her students the same way."

I laughed again. "It sounds to me like you have a little bit of a crush on our dear Professor McGonagall!" I said teasingly.

Davie's cheeks went pink. "N-no I don't," he protested weakly. "I like somebody else."

"Don't worry, Davie, I was just teasing! I know you don't have a crush on McGonagall. That would just be creepy!"

"Well good then," he said, recovering from his embarrassment. "I wouldn't want you thinking that about me. Like I said, I already like someone else."

This last part was said softly, but confidently, as he looked straight into my eyes. I found that I couldn't look away at all, almost like I'd been mesmerized. At last Professor Flitwick called for the class's attention, and I wrenched my gaze from Davie up to the chair piled high with books, on top of which was tiny Professor Flitwick. It was my turn to blush as I caught Abby giving me a thumbs up from across the room, grinning, while Annabelle sat giggling next to her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

For the next few days I tried hard to get used to the new routine of showering at night, getting up the next morning three hours before I normally would to let Annabelle attack my hair while Abby meticulously applied my makeup to match the outfit they'd chosen for me the day before. I hated the amount of energy everyone put in to making me look "beautiful," but even I couldn't deny the amazing results. It seemed that my popularity grew by the day. More and more people went out of their way in the hallways to tell me hello, or wish me luck in my classes. Most of these people were male, but even the girls were starting to befriend me.

"They're just jealous," Annabelle said confidently one morning when I mentioned the girls. "They only want to get to know you because they want to ask you how you went from nerd to minx over the summer, so they can make themselves look more beautiful too."

I realized this was probably exactly why these girls suddenly seemed so interested in being my friend when before they didn't even know I existed. It made me angry that the world—Muggle and wizarding alike—seemed to be so obsessed with looks, but it also made some inner part of me buried deep under my bookworm-ish personality smile to hear that girls were jealous of _me_. In complete honesty, the fact that even a miniscule part of me being was happy about this made me even more adamant about my dislike of the makeover.

One thing I liked about this year, though, besides the more interesting and complicated spells, was the time I was getting to spend with Davie Sathers. He was a really nice boy, charming and sweet and funny, and he seemed to be genuinely interested in what I had to say. He never pressed about my family life, which, as he pointed out once, I always seemed to avoid talking about. He realized it made me slightly uncomfortable, and immediately changed the subject. He also never tried to kiss me or hold my hand or anything; he didn't seem to expect anything out of me, he just liked keeping me company in the library, where I hid from Annabelle and Abby after classes.

"It's not that I don't appreciate their efforts," I said to Davie one crisp late September afternoon in the library. "It's just…I don't understand why they're so determined about the whole thing."

"They probably think you wanted it," he said, shrugging. "I mean, you've never really told them that you didn't like it, have you? Sure, you protest, but you've never outright told them you were against changing."

I thought about this for a moment, sucking on the quill poised above my Potions essay. "Well, you've got a point there," I said finally. "I guess it's because I thought I wanted to change. I was tired of never being noticed, I suppose, but once I was put in the spotlight, I realized that I didn't like it at all."

"You're not telling me that you don't enjoy all this attention?" he teased, grinning at me from across the table.

I tore off a piece of spare parchment, rolled it into a ball and threw it at him. "That's exactly what I'm saying!" But I grinned at him all the same, and laughed when the ball hit him squarely between the eyes. "Actually, it's not the attention I mind, it's just the fact that I had to change so much to _get_ the attention. I hate that the world is so obsessed with the way people look. All these people are realizing that I'm an interesting person, but they don't seem to realize that I've _always_ been this person; it took a fancy new hairdo and new clothes for them to notice me."

"You're right," he agreed, nodding. "I hate to admit that it took those things for me to notice you, too. But I'm also glad you went through with it, because without this makeover thing, I never would have gotten to know you. I wish I could say that I'm the type of person that noticed you before, but I can't, and I'm sorry."

I was touched at his honesty. "But if I were to go back to the old me, the bookworm, you would-?"

"Treat you the same way I'm treating you now," he said, somewhat proudly, and I laughed again.

"Well, good. I'm glad to hear that."

And suddenly we seemed to be a whole lot closer to one another than we had been two seconds earlier, and the laughter died in my throat. I found myself captured in his gaze, captivated by the bright blue pools that seemed so endless and yet so genuine. My mind was completely swept clear of all thoughts of my now forgotten essay or the makeover; all I could see or think was him.

I felt his warm fingers brush lightly against my cheek, and suddenly it hit me: _this was _the_ moment_. This was going to be my first kiss, and instead of fearing it, I welcomed the idea that it would be with this amazing boy, in a place that I loved. This was it, a life-changing moment that every girl has fantasies about, and suddenly I couldn't imagine a more perfect opportunity for it to happen.

Our faces were mere inches apart now; I could feel his breath against me, smelling faintly of the mint gum he had been chewing earlier. For a moment I panicked, wondering what my own breath must smell like, but after he didn't pull away, I figured it couldn't be that terrible. In the moment just before our lips touched, my eyelids fluttered shut while my heart began to beat ten times faster than its original rate.

And then his lips met mine, and the whole world just stopped. Nothing existed but Davie Sathers and me. I could hear nothing but my own heart roaring in my ears, the sound of his gentle breathing, and…

"So, fraternizing with the enemy now, are we?"

And James Potter's voice?

No.

That couldn't be right.

That was _not_ what I had imagined for my first kiss. James Potter was definitely NOT apart of that dream. _That_ boy belonged somewhere in a nightmare.

But sure enough, there he was, standing on the other side of the table, glaring at us as Davie shot away from me.

"Well?" James demanded, completely ignoring Davie now and training his laser eyes on me. "What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?"

I was completely speechless for several moments, torn between saying so many things, both to Potter and Davie. I decided to first deal with the former. "_Enemy_? What—what are you talk—what are you_ doing_ here?"

"Witnessing a huge act of betrayal, apparently," he scoffed, glancing briefly over to Davie with a seething look before returning his icy stare back on me.

Luckily Mrs. Pince was elsewhere in the library helping some Hufflepuff girl find a book, otherwise she probably would have thrown me out for the commotion that ensued. Anger finally seemed to kick in over shock, and suddenly I was filled with such a hot rage that I stood up so quickly my chair toppled over backward.

"How _dare_ you?" I ignored the fallen chair and stepped right up to Potter, glaring up at him furiously. "Just what do you think you're doing in here, huh? What the _bloody hell_ gives you the right to barge in here and—and—interrupt us?"

"I was _trying_ to save you from making a very bad mistake, Evans! You'd never be happy with _him!_"

"Oh, and what, you'd think I'd be happier with _you_? You don't know _anything_ about me, you stupid boy! You know _nothing_ about me. I happen to be very happy with Davie, a lot happier than I could EVER be with the likes of your sorry, immature, idiotic self!"

"How would you know that? How could you say you'd never be happy with me if you don't give me a chance? That's not fair, Lily!"

"NOT FAIR?" I roared. By this time we were in the entrance hall, although I wasn't completely sure how we'd gotten there, and the argument had escalated in volume so that several first years coming inside scattered around us, running to be anywhere but in the middle of the argument of the century. "You want to know what's not fair, Potter? YOU RUINING MY FIRST KISS BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO STUPID AND IMMATURE TO DEAL WITH THE FACT THAT _I HATE YOU_!"

"Hate's a strong word, Evans," James drawled. This was how a typical row between us went: I screamed myself hoarse while he sneered coolly and kept antagonizing me.

"It's a strong emotion!" I shot back, angrily shoving my hand through my hair, roughly yanking out several strands.

"Ah, but you do feel about me," he said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling as if he'd just won a Quidditch match single-handedly. "You feel _strongly _about me."

"You're right, Potter, I _do_ feel strongly about you. I _strongly_ feel disgusted whenever I see you flirt with all the girls you come in contact with. I _strongly_ wish you'd drop off the face of the planet. I _strongly_ want to push you down a flight of stairs and then cut off all of that stupid, messy hair of yours so you can't flip it back all the time like you're king of the world. I _strongly_ loathe you from the very depths of my soul." I panted, cutting myself off, because I could have gone on and on. "So, if that's what you're aiming for, to make me feel 'strongly' about you, well then, good job. You've done it."

The cocky smile had successfully been wiped off his face. He now stood before me with his jaw practically at his feet. Hurriedly he closed his mouth and tried to make it seem like my words meant nothing to him. I was too angry to feel sorry for all the mean things I'd said. He'd just shattered my very basic desire for the perfect first kiss, something every girl deserved; in my mind, he deserved every single harsh word and then some.

"Uh oh."

My head snapped up to see Abby and Annabelle standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching us both very carefully. Potter didn't make a single move to look at them. He just stood there staring at me.

"Lily?" Abby said tentatively, taking a small step forward. "What happened? Is everything okay?"

And then I was running to my best friends, being enveloped in their open, loving arms. Unexpectedly I began to cry, and silently they each wrapped an arm around one of my shoulders and led me up the staircase, leaving James standing alone, undoubtedly still staring at the spot where I'd been standing a few moments earlier, a look of shock and hurt still in his eyes.

"Out of the way, now," Annabelle shouted through the crowded Gryffindor common room, as everyone from all years began to ask a million questions about the fight. Thankfully while Annabelle fought to make a path through the crowd, Abby blocked me from view, remembering that I hated crying in public. Finally we managed to make it up the stairs to our dorm, where the girls both locked the door and also propped a chair against the handle so no one else could get in.

They sat me down on my bed, and while Abby went to get a washcloth for my face, Annabelle removed my shoes and robes. Abby came and carefully washed the mascara lines from my cheeks and eyes, and Annabelle rummaged through my trunk until she found my favourite pair of comfortable pj's and the girls helped me out of my uniform and into those pj's. Then they lied down on either side of me on my bed and let me cry.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"What happened?" Abby asked again when my sobs slowed into sniffles.

"He ruined it," I whispered, my voice harsh from screaming and sobbing.

"What did he ruin?" Belle asked. There was no need to ask who "he" was.

Suddenly I felt a bit shy. I thought if I told them that Davie and I had kissed, they might focus more on that part than of what happened between Potter and I.

"Go on, honey, you can tell us anything," the blonde continued, smoothing back my hair from my forehead.

"He ruined my first kiss," I said softly. For a moment there was no response, so I pressed on. "I just thought it was going to be perfect, you know?"

"Everyone does," Abby reassured me, rubbing my shoulder consolingly.

"Tell us everything, Lily," Annabelle said gently. "Start from the beginning."

So I told them everything that had happened in vivid detail, from my conversation with Davie to how we suddenly seemed to be very close, and my thoughts before and during the kiss to when James suddenly interrupted and the huge fight that resulted.

"I can't believe I said those things to him," I finally sobbed at the end of the story. "You should have seen the look on his face. I was so _harsh._"

"You were just upset," Abby consoled me. "He ruined one of the moments in a girl's life that we all expect to be perfect. It's the same as him ruining your wedding."

"He had no right to do that," Annabelle agreed. "He deserved to get a good, solid slap in the face. Not literally, though, did you? You could get in trouble for that."

"No, I didn't hit him," I sniffed. "But he looked as though I had. I shouldn't have been so mean. He didn't deserve _that_ harsh. I could have just given him the cold shoulder for a few months."

"What are you going to do about Davie?" Abby asked gently after a few moments.

"Oh no!" I was horror-struck. I had completely forgotten about Davie! "Oh no! He's probably never going to talk to me now! Oh gosh…now what? What _should_ I do?"

"Next time you see him, ask if you could speak privately and tell him the truth," Annabelle suggested. "Tell him it was your first kiss and you kind of overreacted when James came and started saying all that stuff about him. Boys like it when you're truthful with them."

I nodded and sniffed a few more times, wiping my eyes. I knew Davie well enough to know that he'd understand and not be upset with me. He would listen to me awkwardly explain it was my first kiss, and then hopefully our relationship could continue from there. _Our relationship_. Wow. I supposed we _were_ in a relationship now, although I wasn't positive because I'd thought the boy had to ask first, to make it official, but who knew? We had just kissed, after all. That had to mean something.

And then, irritatingly enough, my thoughts wandered back to James, back to the look on his face. I had been mean, too mean. I remembered my mom's words at the beginning of the summer, and I knew I had to apologize to him. Yes, he'd been extremely rude to Davie, and me but that didn't excuse my overly callous words to him.

"I'm going to apologize to them both…starting with James, since he's probably right down in the common room."

They both nodded and stood with me. Together we walked to the door, but when I grabbed the door and went to step onto the first stair, I discovered a slide instead of a staircase awaiting me. So a boy had tried to come up here…probably James. I almost chickened out right there.

"Go on," urged Abby from behind me, and apparently her thoughts were along the same line as mine, because she added, "Maybe he's trying to say he's sorry, too."

_Come on, Evans,_ I told myself firmly. _It won't kill you to admit you were wrong to him. You _were_ awfully mean to him._

Appropriately chastised, I sat down and slid into the common room, followed closely by Belle and Abby. Sure enough, there pacing at the bottom of the slide was none other than James Potter. As soon as he saw us he froze, staring intently at my face, as if trying to gauge my mood from the expression he saw there.

"I'm sorry," we both blurted at the same time, and then paused awkwardly. We both opened our mouths to start again at the same time, made a very similar gesture toward the other, and said together again, "No, you go ahead," and then chuckled nervously.

Abby and Annabelle exchanged glances, and then made a show of walking away to give us our space. Another awkward silence fell over us, until finally he said, "Ladies first?"

Slowly I nodded. "Okay, then. I'm really sorry I said that I hated you and wanted to push you down the stairs, and all those other really mean things to you. I was just really upset…and at the time I guess I did want to shove you down a flight of stairs...but I shouldn't have said it. So, I'm sorry."

"You had a right to hate me, Evans. I…well, I shouldn't have ruined your first kiss." He was wearing a very pained expression as he said these last words, but tried to smooth it over with some effort. "I didn't realize it was your first, of course, but that doesn't excuse my actions. So. I'm sorry, too. Please forgive me."

"Sure," I said lightly, staring at the floor in the hopes he wouldn't see my cheeks burning. Why should I care that he knew it was my first kiss? Why should I be embarrassed? I was proud to say that I wasn't just an easy girl who went around giving boys whatever they wanted from me. It had to mean something.

"So…" he said, trailing away awkwardly again.

Still not looking at him, I repeated, "So. I guess I better go find Davie and talk to him, too."

"You're still going to go out with him?" he asked in a strange voice that finally made me look up.

"Yes, I am. Well, I think so, anyway, if that's what…well, what do you care?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, and the awkwardness around us transformed in an instant to a tense atmosphere. "He just doesn't seem to be your type," he replied, as if it didn't even really matter to him, which obviously was NOT the case.

"How do you know what my type is?" I demanded. "You don't know me."

"So you keep saying," he pointed out coolly.

"That's because you _don't_," I spat. "I happen to like Davie, a lot, not that it's any of your business."

"He isn't any good for you, you know."

"_What?_"

"He's only with you because you changed over the summer. Don't be stupid Evans. Nobody noticed you before this silly makeover. _Now_ this boy shows an interest in you, and you just think he's the best thing to ever happen to Hogwarts? He's probably only using you to gain popularity."

I opened and closed my mouth several times in a strikingly similar way _he_ had done during the summer, and I'd accused him of being a fish. But I couldn't think of anything to say.

"How dare you!" I finally said, my voice a whisper for no reason at all, other than perhaps I was still having difficulties speaking properly. I tried to work up my temper, but I couldn't do it for once in my life. I _couldn't_ let him see how much that hurt me. He couldn't know my weakness. He'd only take advantage of it at every opportunity.

He smirked, and my insides coiled; he knew. "Did I hit a nerve, Evans?"

"Why do you torment me so much?" My voice was not infused with enough heat. It just sounded whiny, and I hated myself for it. "Do you honestly think that if you discredit everyone around you and beat me down enough that I'll just fall head over heels for you? Because you're a complete idiot if you do. Why don't you just leave me alone?"

I made to move around him, but he grabbed my arm to stop me, and I whirled around, yanking back out of his grasp. "Don't touch me, Potter," I snarled, and this time my voice sounded appropriately dangerous.

"I'm sorry," he said, but this time he did not sound sorry.

"Apology _not_ accepted, Potter. Leave me alone!"

And I left, not really caring where I went now, or even if I came across Davie or not. I just wanted to walk. I didn't even care that I was still wearing my pj bottoms.

Was Potter right? Was Davie just like all the other boys, just noticing me because of the makeover? Well, he'd already admitted tonight that that was true. But did he also just want to be with me for popularity? I couldn't imagine that. I wasn't popular…well, that wasn't entirely true. Loads more people talked to me now that I was "pretty" didn't they? Would dating me make Davie popular?

_It doesn't matter. He likes you for you,_ I tried to convince myself as I walked down the corridor leading away from the fat lady's portrait. _He told you tonight that if you went back to being you, he'd want to stay with you anyway._

But was he lying? I'd only known him for a few months. How could I be sure he wasn't just saying that to appease me? Of course if I'd asked and he had said, "Well, I don't think I'd want to hang out with you anymore if you went back to being a bookworm," he would not have been kissed. Maybe he _was_ lying and pretending to be someone else just so I'd stay with him.

No. I shook my head, refusing to believe this. I would not let stupid James Potter shake the first feelings of a crush I felt for this amazing boy. Davie was kind, and he liked me for who I was, not what I looked like or how popular I was. I knew it. Potter would just have to learn to deal with us being together, and with the fact that he and I never would be. Ever.

_The end of the world will come before Potter and I are ever _anything _to each other_, I promised vehemently.


End file.
